Bereft
by SEZCPL
Summary: I figured I had to make myself move sooner rather than later. But my feet which would normally be dead keen to step inside any sorority house at any time, were like lead today; because today I would enter only to break someone's heart." Dasey.
1. The Messenger

It was raining. Not the heavy downpour where you know you are getting wet and rush to get under some shelter; not the sharp spring rains which cut into you and make you wish you had put on the more substantial, non-leather jacket.

It was autumnal rain. The sort that when you look out the window to check on the weather you have to look for five minutes or so at something black or dark, to be able to distinguish the fact there are water drops falling. It was misty rain and even now, years later, I can still remember how wet I got waiting on that sidewalk.

I remembered the darkening on the asphalt of the rain, and the quiet hiss of tyres on water as cars passed down the street. I watched the rows of large colonial-looking houses as their lights flicked on with the growing dark. And I remembered how her sorority house looked calm and peaceful. But I knew, if it was anything like my frat house, inside in the early evening it would be one mass of activity as the girls got ready for going out. It was Friday night after all.

Standing opposite a sorority house for a long time isn't always the most sensible thing to do, I knew that. You draw attention to yourself, and there was always the danger, in a street full of accommodation for women, that one of them would be nervous enough of men that they would call the police – or worse, campus security. So I figured I had to make myself move sooner rather than later. But my feet which would normally be dead keen to step inside any sorority house at any time, were like lead today; because today I would enter only to break someone's heart.

My hair was heavy on my head now and when I unconsciously ran my hand through it, the water pooled and ran down my neck, and my hand came away wet. I shivered, in part due to the rain and in part to the task I had to perform. I thought about the important game I had tomorrow and realised that I would get no peace from Coach Matthews if I turned up with a streaming cold.

I shook myself, straightened up from where I had been leaning against the Prince, and, locking the car doors, started across the street.

Would she know why I had come? Would I be spared having to frame the words into a sentence? Would there be some way I could impart my message and leave without it killing her? I would do anything to avoid hurting her. The little games we play…are nothing. The arguments we have…meaningless. I'm actually protective of her…in my own, irritating way. I would give anything for her to go through life with the only fly in her ointment to be gentle teasing and pranking from me.

But life doesn't work that way.

I reached the door to the house and rang the bell.

* * *

The girl who answered the door was a red-head. She was short, Irish and gifted with the Irish sense of humour.

"Blessed Mother of Jesus! I've died and gone to Heaven!" she exclaimed when she saw me.

I've had some doorstep reactions before now, but that is still one of my favourites.

Normally, a reaction like that would be the cue for me to smirk and lean against the door.

Not today.

The fiery haired girl grinned at me and then turned round to shout to her housemates.

"Okay. Which of you has been holding out on us? Who's dating Derek Venturi?"

At that the hallway behind her filled with the other "sisters" all eager to see what Red was on about. She raised her eyes questioningly at each of them, but when none of them bit she turned back to me.

"No takers, hun, but don't worry if you got the wrong house, one of us will oblige." She did a nice line in a smirk too.

"I'm here to see Casey." I said quietly, and I couldn't bring myself to smile.

"No need to look so mournful about it." She said, opening the door further to let me in. "She's in her room, studying." Red frowned. "Is she expecting you?"

I shook my head.

Red smiled. "Up the stairs, second door on the right. Knock. Casey doesn't like it if you barge in."

"I know. I live with her. At home."

"Oh?" She looked stunned. It figured Casey hadn't told them about me. I didn't elaborate, just started to move away.

"Erm…are you girls heading out?" I asked, pausing to turn around.

"Yeah why?"

"Has Casey got a particular friend amongst you?"

Red looked confused. "Yeah. Me. Why?"

"Hang around. She may need you."

* * *

The sorority house was nice and unlike my own frat house, it was clean. The girls had added homely touches and I could see that it had to be a vast improvement on the dorms; the few girls' dorms I had been in over the past eighteen months.

I'd not been in Casey's dorm though, not since the very first semester and this was my first time in her sorority house.

Which was weird, considering she was my step-sister.

I figured, even if that's all she had been to me, I still would have seen more of her than I actually had.

We'd been avoiding each other since the first year of college, by mutual consent.

The other girls had apparently disappeared, although I doubted they had gone far. I suspected there were several doors left open a crack so that the room's occupants didn't miss anything.

I wanted to go round and pointedly shut every door, because they didn't need to see or hear this.

It wasn't fair on Casey.

I wondered when that had begun to matter so much to me, and failed. There had always been something about her.

I shook myself. Now was not the time to be thinking about that.

The door to Casey's room had a picture of a dancer on it. That was nothing new. The dancer, however, was Casey, she wasn't wearing a lot and from what I could tell, the dance involved poles.

Evidently, my step-sister and I needed to do a bit of catching up.

I knocked. I like my hearing and certain parts of my anatomy too much to behave any other way.

"I'm not coming! I've got too much studying to do." A voice from the other side of the door shouted.

"Once a keener, always a keener." I heard myself respond.

"Derek?"

Her voice should have horror in it, but it didn't. It sounded excited. It should have had little or no effect on me. But it did. My heart raced. But that only made the reason I was there worse.

The door flew open and there she was.

My step-sister.

My nemesis.

She caught herself in the enthusiasm.

"What are you doing here? This had better not be a prank."

God! I wished this was a prank. That I could leave here smiling. But, it was far from it.

"Casey. We need to talk."  
She stood there, blocking the doorway.

"About what? We have nothing to say to each other. We said it all a long time ago. You made your feelings quite clear."

Which was weird, because I was sure it was a mutual decision.

I couldn't allow this to go on. Apart from everything else, I would be getting a phone call shortly demanding to know if I had done what I came here to do.

I loved the person at the other end of that call too much to fail her.

"Casey. Sit down."

"Why? I've never done anything you told me to do why would I start now?"

"Casey…" Frustration made my voice harsh. "…for godssake woman! Would you just sit down!"

She sat.

She wasn't comfortable, I could tell. She was happy I'd noticed. I could tell that too. I hoped my face gave nothing away.

"Derek. I have a calculus test on Monday and I need to study so would you just get on with it already?"

I took a deep breath. I cursed our family. I cursed my dad for falling for her mother. I cursed my own siblings for accepting the new family without question when I could not. I cursed her for being everything that I wanted and nothing that I could have.

But most of all, I cursed my step-mother for making me come here tonight. I cursed her for the calm accepting way she had told me. I cursed her for the logic with which she made it my problem, and I cursed the law of nature which made the conversation I was about to have with the woman I cared about necessary.

I said nothing. I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulders.

"Don't brush me off, sweetheart. You'll need this."

And some sixth sense kicked in as she started to shake.

"Tell me."

"Princess…Your father has died."


	2. Casey

**Casey**

* * *

I heard the words. "Princess, Your father has died." They were calmly spoken. There was no drama to them and looking back afterwards I felt offended, because they should have been dramatic. They ripped at my heart and made a mess of my mind.

I had never fainted before, but I fainted then. A black mist swirled over my room and solidified. Derek told me afterwards, I slid down in his grip, my head ending up in his lap.

When I came to, I threw up on him.

I didn't cry and I wasn't even "with it" enough to apologise. But to my step-brother, it didn't seem to matter. He just rubbed my back and reached across to get my bin. We needed it, I was sick four more times. My body couldn't handle the grief any more than my mind. Drunk on grief; that's what it felt like.

I have been badly drunk just once. Drunk to the point where I was aware of everything and conscious of nothing. Fortunately, I was with good friends who watched me closely and I came through it with nothing more than the dreadful poster on my door. At the time, I had heard the conversations around me, but I could not converse.

So it was now. I should ask questions, or apologise to Derek, but I couldn't open my mouth.

My door opened, and Roisin ("Rosie" – a name so apt because of her flaming hair) came in. She took one look at me, prostrate on Derek's lap.

"What the hell have you done to her?" She accused Derek as I tried to lift my head.

"Casey's father died today." He explained. Carefully, still; plainly. "I've just broken the news to her."

"Oh…shit!" She sat down heavily on the computer chair. Then she noticed the mess. "Jesus wept! Look at the state of you. Give her to me and get those clothes off."

I felt Derek move as he shook his head. "I'm okay."

"No you're not. Here, I'm sure Casey has some man clothes in her chest of drawers, I'll find them."

"Man Clothes?" I heard Derek ask. A distant voice in my mind said I should find this amusing. Derek was shocked I had a guy's clothes in my chest of drawers.

Rosie rummaged through my clothes.

"Here you go. Sweats and a hockey T. They look about your size."

Derek snorted. "Yeah. They should. They're mine."

"What?"

This time I managed to speak. "Mom. Muddled. Laundry."

"You've had those for ages." Rosie busted me. "You work out in them."

I gave up speaking. If what my friend had said had bothered Derek, he didn't show it, just brushed my hair to one side with something approaching affection.

"Can I grab a shower?" he said, resigned to Rosie's nagging.

Rosie nodded. "Across the landing. The lock's broken so knock loudly first. Although I doubt any of them would object to you joining them." She added. The amused tone should have jarred against the current situation, but it didn't. Rosie always got the tone right.

While Derek was gone, Rosie fussed. She laid me on my bed, and sat beside me.

"Oh Honey. I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Has he told you how it happened?"

I shook my head.

"Would you like me to ask him when he gets back?"

I nodded.

"First I think we need to get you cleaned up and into bed, and then I'll go make you something warm and sweet."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

After what seemed like an age, Derek returned. I could smell my shampoo and soap on him. Looking back I realise he probably recognised my brand on the bathroom shelf and used it knowing that I wouldn't object.

Between them, my step-brother and my best friend stripped me and the bed, showered me, dressed me, and then deposited me on fresh sheets under the clean comforter. Derek sat with me while Rosie went to make us all hot chocolate.

When she was gone, Derek pulled me close and brushed the damp hair from my face.

"When you are ready, I have some stuff I need to tell you, about what happened. But, it can wait."

"Okay. Can you stay for a bit?" I wasn't sure why I wanted him there, but I did. Probably because he was a link with home.

"Of course." And that same tiny voice in my mind frowned, because there was no 'of course' about it. Derek and I weren't friends. I couldn't expect him to stay.

But he spoke as though I could.

The three of us sat on my bed; Derek beside me, Rosie at my feet, all of us sipping hot drinks. It hurt my stomach, where I had been sick, but the pain was good. It was real.

Derek in my sorority bedroom, was not.

I glanced at him, wondering why I couldn't cry – or ask him about Dad's death.

It was Rosie who framed the question for me.

"How did it happen?"

Derek didn't make a fuss about it. He told me straight; sadness clouding his eyes as he spoke.

"He was shot in a convenience store, late at night. He walked in on a robbery; wrong place, wrong time."

And I was grateful for the calmness. He looked apologetically at me.

"Nora couldn't give me any more details because she didn't have them yet. The reason she knows is because she was still down as his next of kin.

That sounded like Dad. So busy advising others on getting their affairs in order, he didn't sort out his own.

"When's the funeral?" Rosie asked.

"We don't know until the autopsy is over. A couple of weeks because of the criminal nature of his death."

"Where?" I managed. Dad had lived in New York, but he was born and grew up in Toronto.

"Nora said Toronto."

"I'll have to go back." I said.

"I'll take you. I'll be going anyway."

"Derek. You don't have to."

"Yes I do. I liked your dad."

Rosie looked confused. "Just exactly what are you to each other?"

"Derek's my…" Nemesis?

"Step-brother." Derek replied. I glanced at him, surprised. We had agreed a long time ago that we would drop the "step" from our titles, because those extra four letters and a hyphon made no difference to us whatsoever.

Or rather, Derek suggested it.

I never contested it.

It was largely irrelevant because relationships and their definitions only mean something if you see each other; apart from our trips home every vacation, we didn't.

"Wow! And you never thought to tell us, Derek Venturi was your brother?" Rosie asked.

_Yeah Rosie, like I'd open myself up in that way. As soon as you all found out you'd be begging for introductions to the college hockey star._

"Long story." Derek rescued me. "We're in denial." His eyes caught mine. "In denial that we are related." He amended hastily.

A phone rang from somewhere in the room, and Derek was spared further inquisition because it was his cell. He retrieved it, from my night-stand where he had placed it when Rosie took his clothes to be washed, and looked at the screen.

"It's home. I'll go talk outside." He left the room, saying. "Hello, Dad."

Rosie shifted closer.

"What's the story? With Derek, I mean? There's tension between you."

I shrugged. My father had just died and she was asking me about Derek?

"Hmm. I'll let you off for now, but, when you are back on your feet, you are _so_ going to spill."

I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes. _Great!_

.

In all that time, I had not cried. It was as though my body reacted, not my mind. But, I knew the tears would come.

Right now I was physically drained. I curled on the bed and let them fuss over me, fighting for who was more considerate or consoling. It was curiously reassuring. Eventually, the emotional exhaustion grew so great that I dozed off.

* * *

The room was in darkness, but I was not alone. My clock said the time was 2am and the only other light I could see was that leeching in past the drapes from the street lights outside. I saw the familiar shapes of my furniture around my room, but everything was indistinct. As senses went, my sight was at a disadvantage. My hearing faired better as I could tell from the sound of regular breathing that someone was lying beside me in bed. It was my sense of smell that told me it was Derek; I mean I smelled my own shampoo rather than Rosie's heady dewberry scent.

I was numb, so the strangeness of Derek in bed with me didn't really register at first, and even when it did, I was too fragile to care. The only things that were registering with me were physical sensations. The most pressing of which was thirst, which I guessed was from vomiting, so I sat up and drank some water from the bottle on the table beside me. Derek turned over.

"You okay?" He asked sleepily.

"Thirsty."

Derek sat up beside me, and I could tell from his silhouette that he was leaning on his knees.

"I'm sorry, Case…about Dennis. He was a nice guy. He should have spent more time with you, but he was still a nice guy."

Of all the triggers…it was that which broke me.

And I cried.

And cried

And cried.

I sobbed and spluttered and generally covered myself in snot. Derek got covered too, because as soon as the tears started he sighed and pulled me down on the bed and into his arms.

"I'm…_sob sob_…sorry..._sob_...about the tears." I stuttered as he handed me a tissue from the box beside the bed.

Derek tightened his grip on me and I felt him kiss my head.

"Sweetheart, grief is nothing to apologise for." He waited until my sobs died down to the point where he could talk to me properly. "I'm relieved you finally started to cry. It was eerie before. I kept wondering when it was going to hit you." I nodded and we lay in silence, our bodies uncharacteristically close, and Derek pressing kisses in my hair.

"You're in my _bed_!" I exclaimed a while later, suddenly realising this was a far from normal situation. "Who are you and what have you done with Derek?" I asked, turning my face to look at him. He smiled softly.

"It's a suspension of hostilities, Casey. Not an end to the war." I smiled weakly at him. "You are five hours away from home and I'm the closest thing you have to family near by. Sometimes, you have to ignore your natural revulsion and just go with the flow."

I stared at him, and he smirked.

"Der-ek!" I whispered indignantly. He chuckled and then cursed as I smacked him on the arm.

"Nora wants you to go home until after the funeral. I've told her I'll take you back this afternoon. I've got an important game in the morning and she doesn't want me to miss it."

"You don't have to come back with me. I can get the train or something."

His fingers brushed against my cheek.

"I'm coming, so quit complaining."

"But…"

"Casey, Dad and Nora want me there."

Then I understood. He had been told to come home.

"George and Mom insisted?" I asked him. He shrugged. "Okay." I agreed. "Sorry. Did they also tell you to sleep with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Casey. I'm here because your sofa looked too uncomfortable and there wasn't room to sleep on your floor." He paused.

"And I'm your brother, so it made sense."


	3. Tom

Sleeping with Casey was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. It was just…weird. Here was someone who I was supposed to love, because she was my sister, who I behaved as though I hated, because that was what we did, but who had the power to take my familiar (dis)organised world and turn it on its head. (i.e. Organise it!). She should not be lying next to me, we should not be quietly talking to each other, and I should not be holding her.

But I was.

Her body was cooler than it should be, and I put that down to shock. I hugged her close turning her towards me, and wrapping my arms around her small frame and resting my chin on her head.

I was comfortable, but I only truly examined how I felt about it all at a much later date, however, because at the time all that filled my mind was the devastation that my visit had caused her; the grief that she wouldn't have known if I hadn't knocked on her door.

That wasn't true, of course. Someone would have phoned her, or phoned the administration department and arranged for someone to tell her face to face. But, instead Nora had begged me to do it, saying that even if it was _me_ it would give Casey more comfort than a name-less stranger. She hadn't needed to beg for long. I said yes straight away…and without thinking.

The apprehension came later. How would she take it coming from me? The phrase, _Don't shoot the messenger_ sprang to mind.

Well that was okay, because she hated me anyway.

I bent my neck to look at her. The tears were still coming even if her sobs had eased, but I saw that as a good sign. It had seriously scared me when she didn't cry for so long. The grief needed an outlet. I would have considered the possibility that she hadn't understood my words, but the 'vomiting on Derek' bit belied that.

"I'm sorry about the mess." She whispered, ignoring the brother comment I had just made, and eerily reading my own mind.

"So you should be." I joked, and then relented. "It's nothing Casey. Rosie will wash my clothes. You can't help gut-reactions."

She sniffed at my unintentional pun.

"What did mom say? When she phoned, the first time?" She asked and her voice was so quiet I hardly heard.

I rubbed at my eyes with my free hand and took a deep breath, replaying the conversation in my own mind.

"_Hi Nora!" I had answered the phone cheerily. I was getting ready for a date and was just about to go in the shower._

"_Derek." Nora said and then stopped. I frowned and waited. Something in her tone was off, and I thought I heard a sniff. She coughed._

"_Derek. I need you to do me a big favour."_

_When she spoke I knew something was seriously wrong, and I thought of all the things it could possibly be. Was someone sick? Marti and Robbie's faces flashed to mind. I loved all my family, but for some reason it was those two I thought of first. Those two…and Casey. But I hadn't let her face appear, because I was well practiced at pushing thoughts of her away._

"_Okay…" I said, cautiously, bracing myself._

"_I need you to go and see Casey…"_

"_Nora…I…!_

"_Derek, this is no time for feuds, okay? Dennis has…died" her voice broke and the rest of her sentence was garbled. "And I need you to break it to Casey." Her voice altered. "_Please._" She urged._

_I had gasped when she told me. I coughed to clear my throat, and frowned because the death of Casey's father hit me harder than it should have done._

"_No problem." I said. "How did he die?"_

"_He went to a convenience store late last night and walked in on a robbery. He tried remonstrating with the gunman and got shot in the process. Just tell Casey he was shot in a robbery. I don't know all the details and until I do I don't want her to assume anything."_

"_How did you find out?"_

"_I'm his next of kin. He told me he was keeping me as his next of kin because he had no one else, not until Casey was grown up. How can she ever be grown up enough to take a phone call like that?"_

_I ran my fingers through my hair._

"_I'll go over there now. Do you have her address?"_

"_Are things that bad between you?" Nora asked, concerned that I didn't even know where she lived._

_I laughed humourlessly. "Not bad. We're uncomfortable around each other, so we avoid each other. It works well."_

_She sighed, and gave me the address. I was surprised at how close to my own residence it was._

"_Call me when you're done." She stated. I agreed and we hung up._

_I pressed the down arrow on my phone and picked a number from it._

"_Charlotte? It's Derek. Listen, I'm going to have to cancel. We've had a death in the family and I need to go tell my…step- sister."_

I explained. Casey took slow, forced breaths.

"And later. After I was sick?"

_I had answered the phone as I left Casey and walked out of the door. It was Dad._

"_Hello Dad." I acknowledged._

"_Derek."_

"_How are Nora and Lizzie?"_

"_Not good. How's Casey?"_

_I took a deep breath. "Not good either."_

"_You can handle tears." My father said._

_I sat down on the top step of the staircase._

"_Yes. But she isn't crying. She threw up on me and that was it."_

"_Threw up on you?" My dad sounded incredulous._

"_Yeah. Five times."I exaggerated. The second through fifth times had been into her bin._

"_I'm worried about her, D." Dad said, and for the first time I realised how much he loved her._

"_So am I, dad."I admitted honestly. "Why won't she cry?" The concept of wanting there to be tears was alien to me._

"_Bring her home."_

"_Yeah. I got that game tomorrow morning, but as soon as it is over, we'll get on the road."_

"_Thanks son. And make sure you go to the game, Nora would hate for you to miss it."  
"I'd better go. I left her with some mad Irish girl. She's like a leprechaun on acid."_

_Despite himself, George sniggered._

"_That'll be Rosie. She's a character alright." Then he remembered his responsibilities._

"_Where will you be if we need you?" He asked._

"_Here. I'll sleep here tonight."_

"_At Casey's?" Dad sounded surprised._

"_Yeah. Why?" I knew why. Because I wasn't renowned for my sensitivity when it came to Casey, but if my father thought back he would remember that actually, this wasn't the first time I'd been nice to her._

"_Nothing. Give us a call when you are on your way."_

"_Will do."_

"It was dad that phoned." I said quietly.

"Oh. How are Mom and Lizzie?"

I kissed the top of her head. "Like you." I said honestly. "Not good."

Casey moved closer to me. I thought it was because she was upset about her Mom and sister, so it was a surprise when she spoke.

"I missed you." She said so softly, I almost didn't hear the words "Thank you. For being the one who told me. It can't have been easy and I know it was worse because it meant seeing me again."

I sighed. "Case…"

"It's okay, Derek. I just wanted you to know that I was okay with everything. And I am grateful."

We lapsed into silence. I handed her another tissue and she mopped up more tears.

"You should try to sleep, Casey. Your body is in shock."

"I know…I just…why are you here and not Rosie?"

"Do you want me to get Rosie?"

"No."

"I've got a game in the morning, so I'll have to leave Rosie looking after you then. I told her to go to bed and get a good night's sleep."

"But you've got a game and you've got to drive tomorrow."

Hmmm. She called me out on that one!

"Casey. I'm here. Shut up and go to sleep."

She sniffed again and said nothing else.

* * *

Surprisingly, we both slept well. Despite the unexpected weights on my chest, physical and emotional.

I woke first and found Casey still wrapped around me in a vice-like grip. It was probably a good job I had grown up a bit since our teenage years. There was still the residual temptation to push her away dramatically shouting… "Ew!"

But I had grown up, and waking up with her so close wasn't as unpleasant as a younger me would have suggested.

_Not unpleasant at all_. I thought, as I played with the strands of her hair where it tickled my chest, thinking back to when we first came to college.

After a moment, I shook myself and looked at the nightstand. Casey's clock said it was 8.00am which meant I needed to get up and go home so that I could pack and get ready for my game. First I had to extricate myself from my step-sister's embrace, preferably without waking her.

No such luck!

As soon as I started to ease myself free, Casey stirred.

"Derek?" she questioned, sleepily.

"Go back to sleep, hun. I'm just going to my place to pack. I'll be back after the game to pick you up."

"Okay." She murmured, smiling. She frowned slightly, and then she blinked. "Oh!" And I could tell the reality of last night had just hit her. I watched her face crumple, the tears start to fall, and then the sobs began again. I sat back down on the bed and cuddled her to me.

"I know hun."

It took me ten minutes to calm her down to the point where I could leave her, but when I did manage to get away and open her door, there was a pile of my clean clothes waiting outside for me. Rosie had done my laundry.

I dressed quickly, and threw the discarded clothes onto Casey's chair. She could keep them, but we should take them back to London to be washed again.

Downstairs, Rosie, dressed and ready to take charge, was waiting.

"How is she?" She asked in a subdued tone.

"Teary."

"Thank goodness!" Rosie had evidently been as worried about Casey's lack of tears as I had. I nodded.

"She cried in the night and then again when I left her this morning."

"I think I'd cry if you left me in bed too." A tall blonde girl said as she came down the stairs. Rosie and I ignored her.

"That's Simone." Rosie whispered. "She wasn't around last night, so she doesn't know why you are here, so excuse the crass comment."

"I'm going back to my place to pack, and I'll be back to pick her up about 1pm. Any chance you could help Casey…"

"…pack? Sure. I'll have her ready to go."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She grinned. "We should see more of you around here."

I scratched at the back of my head and smirked.

"Somehow I doubt Casey would agree."

.

The rain had stopped when I emerged from the house and crossed the street to my car. I glanced at my watch and swore. I needed to get a move on if I was going to get everything sorted before the game. I started the engine, strapped myself in and pulled careful out into the traffic flow.

It was a dreary day, even without the clouds left over from yesterday's rain or my current state of mind. I needed my lights on and occasionally the wipers as the residue of the wet evening got kicked up onto the windshield. The people I saw on the sidewalk were well wrapped up and hurrying. It wasn't a day to enjoy a stroll.

The roads became familiar as I made my way to my fraternity house. It took less than five minutes and I felt another pain of guilt over the close proximity between Casey's house and my own – and our lack of contact. Things hadn't always been as distant between us and whilst I still saw the distance as necessary, I still felt maybe I should have been a better…_brother?_...to her. Why had it taken the death of her father to make me go to see her?

I knew the answer and so did Casey.

Pushing the past from my mind, I pulled up outside the house and tried to concentrate on the here and now. I parked and left the car, dashing into the house as quickly as I could because I really had very little time.

As I reached my room and opened the door, I was already making a haphazard list of the things I would need in London, as well as the few items of hockey stuff I would need that weren't contained in my locker. I grabbed my holdall and started taking clothes from my drawers and chucking them into the bag.

"Someone's in a hurry." A voice said from the doorway. "What's her name? And why are you running? Daddy after you with a gun?"

I flicked my eyes to my moron of a friend, Tom.

"Not in the mood, asshole." I said, without any real malice. Tom came into the room.

"Seriously, dude. What's the hurry?"

"I've got to go home for a few days – after the game – and I need to pack now."

"I thought we were going to Jose's party tonight."

I picked up my laptop bag and checked the power cord was inside, and then I reached for my cell phone charger and slipped that in too.

"Casey's dad died. I've got to drive her back home."

"Oh shit! Sorry D. That's where you were last night?" I nodded. "How is she?"

"A mess. She threw up on me when I told her."

Tom, never one for tack, grinned. "I told you that you would exchange bodily fluids with her one day."

I paused. "Tom…seriously…that is so…words fail me, man." I shook my head at him and resumed what I was doing, but I couldn't help the slight upwards tug on my mouth at his comment.

Tom was one of the few friends I had maintained from the very beginning of college, so he had been there through the whole "Casey" thing.

"So how was it? Seeing her again?"

I shrugged. "I see her every vacation, T."

"Not really. You drive home in silence and you avoid each other the whole time you're there. I know. You told me. How does she look?"

"She looks like Casey. Tom. A very upset Casey."

He backed off. "Sorry."

I went to grab my washbag from the bathroom.

"Sorry Tom. I'm just in a rush, and to be honest with you…I liked Dennis. I'm sad that he's gone. And I've always hated it when Casey cries."

"I remember." Tom said quietly.

I looked up at him, figuring maybe a little honesty with him wouldn't hurt.

"She looks good. And I broke her heart again."


	4. Returning to the Fold

I'm sure I did things that Saturday morning. I must have got up and showered, dressed myself and I was fairly sure I had eaten. But I must have had help from Rosie with all of that, because I couldn't remember the details. She was just there, from the moment Derek left until the moment just before lunchtime when he returned.

I was in my room, not wanting to see anyone. Rosie had told me that I was the talk of the house for having a visit from Derek Venturi – and that she had quietly let them know that he was my step-brother and that my father had just died.

It hurt to hear the words.

"Princess?" I heard a voice and looked up. Derek was standing in the doorway, car keys in his hand.

"Hi." I replied, blankly.

And he came into the room and sat beside me on the bed.

"Ready to go?" He asked. I nodded.

"How do I face them?" I asked him. "Mom and Lizzie."

Derek took my hand.

"It's going to be a rough couple of weeks, but you three aren't alone in this. It's McDonalds and Venturis remember?"

"I'm sorry this screws up your plans."

He shrugged.

"Nothing that can't wait." He brushed my hair from my face. "Sweetheart, we should go. We have a long journey ahead of us."

I gasped a breath. "Yes. Let's go."

He stood and picked up both my bags in one hand and then held out his free hand to me.

"Case."

I stood shakily and took his hand. Then we made our way downstairs and out to the car.

* * *

The journey was quiet like normal, but it was a peaceful silence rather than the confrontational absence of noise which often happened when we made the journey. I watched the scenery pass quickly by us with a detached air, my stomach churning and tears threatening whenever I allowed myself conscious thought.

Derek said nothing, but he glanced at me frequently.

We took our main rest stop around the halfway point. He led me into the main building and found us a coffee shop, then bought two coffees. To my surprise, he slipped into the seat next to me and pulled me into his arms.

"You tell no one I did this, okay?" he said, knotting his hands together across my stomach and kissing the back of my head. I smiled weakly and leaned against him, placing my own hands on top of his.

"Your secret is safe, D." I managed and in spite of my grief, his actions sparked an old heat in me, which I had been trying for so long to repress.

To disguise my need to respond in other ways, I picked up the coffee and sipped it. It was surprisingly good, and obviously not instant. The taste soothed unexpectedly, and the warmth was reassuring. Or maybe, it was just that I was being held by Derek.

After forty five minutes and a bathroom visit, we were back on the road. Derek was starting to look a little tired, but he refused to let me drive saying that it was too dangerous for me behind the wheel in my current state.

"Because of my grief or because I'm female?" I retorted automatically. His eyes flashed to mine in amusement. He shrugged his head to one side.

"Well that's the billion dollar question."

I rolled my eyes.

.

Eventually, and all too quickly we arrived in London. And the next couple of hours were just an ugly black blur.

* * *

I knew my Mom loved George. They still had that giddy look on their faces even after years of marriage. I hadn't realised, however, the extent to which my Mom still cared about my Dad. She looked ill when I saw her, a shadow of her former self. Lizzie could do nothing but lie on her bed, sobbing. After a brief hug we all retreated to our own spaces.

It was Derek who appeared in my room later that night with pizza.

"Eat." He said pushing the plate at me.

"I can't. I'll throw up."  
"You only feel that way because you haven't eaten. Eat."

I shook my head.

"Casey. You are going to eat. I'm going to sit here and watch you until you eat, now eat."

"You can't bully me, Derek."  
"You wanna bet?" And he adopted his stubborn pose.

It wasn't that which made me eat the damned pizza however, it was the concern in his eyes.

He did sit with me but he rubbed my back and told me the anecdotes which George had passed on about Marti, and a little story about Robbie discovering ice cream.

I ate.

I ate three slices and then the chocolate which he had brought. And he was right, because I wasn't sick. I managed to get up and go downstairs to watch some lame hockey game which George was subjecting the Venturis to. Derek pulled me into the recliner and onto his lap and his father handed me a glass of wine.

"Your father was proud of you, Casey. He would be proud of how you are holding up."

Mom and Lizzie had early nights.

* * *

The days at home passed, and I spent an unusual amount of time with my step-brother. Derek's idea of quality time with me involved bullying and a small degree of pranking, but I knew where he was coming from, and I appreciated it.

Lizzie eventually emerged from her room to sit with me and drink coffee. I don't know if it was by design or instruction but Marti, and Robbie gave us a wide berth.

Edwin didn't, however. He hovered in the background as if waiting for a sign from Lizzie that she needed him.

Mom…she dealt with a lot. After her initial overwhelming grief, she was busy sorting out the arrangements and it gave her a focus. She spoke to the police who were investigating the robbery and gained more information, I know. But she didn't share it with us. When I asked her why not, she sighed and answered.

"Casey, love. You just don't want to know. When the funeral is over and you are in a better frame of mind, come and ask me. But for now, you have the worst of it."

I trusted her. So I listened to her.

.

After ten days at home, we held the funeral.

It was small, but we were surprised at how many of his office came. I recognised in the congregation a couple of his college friends and a distant cousin. But otherwise there were a lot of Venturis at this McDonald's funeral; even Derek who was still at home and hadn't returned to Queens.

He stood beside me during the service and when I stumbled on our way to the cemetery, it was Derek who caught me.

I owed him a lot for those ten days.

.

The evening of the funeral, I found it hard to sleep. I tossed and turned a lot. Eventually, unable to close my eyes, I got up and went to the bathroom. When I emerged later and went back to my own room, Derek was asleep in my bed.

He stirred as I climbed back in.

"Are you okay?" He mumbled.

"Not really. Why are you here?"

"I've been listening to you shuffling for the last hour. I decided it was easier to tell you to shut up if I was in the same room as you."

"Gee…thanks!" I said it sarcastically, but there was a smile on my face. I moved closer to him and he threw an arm around my waist.

"Is this another of those 'pretend this didn't happen' situations?" I asked.

"Definitely." Derek muttered and then his breathing became steady and he said nothing else.

After a few minutes, I drifted off too.

* * *

I could say that things got better after the funeral, and I suppose in a way that was true. Derek and I returned to Queens and life returned to normal. Sort of.

It was still a struggle to get through the day, but after a few weeks, I could concentrate again. In time my sense of humour returned too.

This was a good thing, because the one thing that didn't return to normal was my relationship with Derek. Instead, of going back to ignoring me, he made a point of appearing at my sorority house once a week and bugging the hell out of me until I made him a sandwich. I wasn't sure which of my 'sisters' he was after, but it actually didn't irritate me the way I thought it would. It was nice to have him there.


	5. Pastures New

**Six Months later:**

It was raining. Not the clinging drizzle where you don't know you are getting wet but the sudden April shower where you rush to get under some shelter; the sharp spring rain which cuts into you and makes you wish you had put on the more substantial, non-leather jacket.

It was April. The weather was the sort where you look out the window to check it, and by the time you have crossed the distance to open the front door, the weather has changed. The rain was warm and even now, years later, I can still remember the sight of the rainbow rising above her sorority house, its end hovering above the building as though within lay a crock of gold.

I should have known it was really a crock of shit.

I remember the spring flowers on the grass verge, and the quiet hiss of tyres on water as cars passed down the street. I watched the rows of large colonial-looking houses as their lights flicked on with the growing dark, but this time it was much later. And I remember how her sorority house looked calm and peaceful - still. But I knew, because I visited every week at this time, inside in the early evening it would be one mass of activity as the girls got ready for going out. It was Friday night after all.

I didn't hang around on the sidewalk. I parked my car, climbed out and locked the doors, dashing across the wet road to the other side, to avoid the down pour. I saw the door open as I approached and part of me found it amusing that my movements on a Friday night were now so predictable that Rosie had the door open before I even got out of the car.

Another part of me didn't find it amusing at all.

I escaped the worst of the weather, but I still felt like a wet dog shaking myself off on the doormat.

Rosie laughed her little trill of a laugh.

"You're late, Venturi! What time d'ya call this? Most of the girls are pissed at you for missing the opportunity to catch them half-dressed." she exclaimed when she saw me.

The fiery haired girl grinned at me and then turned round to shout to her housemates.

"Derek's here, girls!"

I rolled my eyes at her. She laughed. "Hey babe. Save that reaction for them. I'm only telling it like it is."

She shut the door behind me.

"Where's Space-Case?" I asked.

"In her room. Pop quiz on James Joyce on Monday morning. God only knows why she is revising. I swear she is the only person on the planet who understands Finnegan's Wake."

I frowned at her.

"Red. You do realise that I have absolutely no fucking clue what you're on about, don't you?"

Rosie grinned. "Ah! But your confusion is endearing. CASEY! Your gorgeous hunk of a step-bro is here!"

Casey appeared at the top of the stairs.

"God Red! Don't stoke his ego. We'll never get him out the door again."

I smirked up at her. Casey had adopted my nickname for her best friend unconsciously. I don't think she even realised.

"Are you coming up or are you going to stay down there and ogle my 'sisters'?" There weren't speech marks the way Casey said it.

I grabbed the handrail and started my way up the steps to Casey's bedroom.

* * *

She'd left her bedroom door open and was perched on her bed, Finnegan's Wake in her hand.

"You do realise I should invoice you for Friday nights." She said without looking up. "I mean my food shelf suffers depletion of epic proportions by the time you leave."

I tilted my head and smirked at her.

"I pay you with my charm and charisma, and the wonderful experience of my company on your lonely Friday nights."

Her head snapped up. "My Friday nights aren't lonely."

"Of course not. You spend them with me."

She sighed. "How is it, Derek, that after five years you are still a Moron?"

I threw myself onto her bed and parted her fingers from James Joyce. I waved the book in her face.

"How come you're still a keener?"

"I'm a student, Derek." She said. "I'm supposed to be a keener."

I flipped the book to the night stand.

"No. You're a student. The only thing you are supposed to do is par-tay!" I leaned back against her pillows. "You fail that, miserably."

Casey sighed. "Give me a break and go raid my kitchen."

I chuckled and sat up, reaching inside my jacket for the DVD I had brought with me.

"I'll go get the snacks. You stick that on the TV."

"Derek?" Casey called as I reached the door.

"Hmm?"

"You do realise one day you'll turn up and I won't be here, don't you?"  
"If you plan on doing that, ask Red to get my favourite potato chips." I said, cheerily and disappeared out of the door.

But as I made my way down the stairs, I pondered Casey's expression. There was something off about it; as though it wasn't just an idle comment. I shrugged the feeling off and made my way to the kitchen.

* * *

The truth was Casey and I were getting closer. Not just some vague friendship thing. We both depended on those Friday night movie nights.

I had started them after her father's death because in some strange way I wanted to change her thoughts of me in her sorority house. So I picked the same time as I had turned up to break the news – except this time, I goaded her into our little bicker sessions till the sparkle was back in her eyes.

By the time, Red stuck her head around the kitchen door, I had a plate of snacks which Casey would pick at and I would clear, and Casey would have my latest film choice lined up on her TV.

Tonight, the film was Hudson Hawk because I was working my way through cult films educating her on comic timing.

We sat on her bed, food plate resting on my lap, Casey resting against my shoulder, my arm wound around her. We whispered to each other during the film, and several times I was transported back to the beginning of our college career when we had had a similar relationship.

Till we realised where this was going – and I panicked.

I would replay the events so that you could see, but to be honest with you – there weren't any. Not really.

We had grown close in our first year. At the time, Casey had alluded to our new proximity several times and I wasn't unaware. I could see where we were heading too.

Which was when I decided to have the "let's drop the _step_ bit, and just call ourselves siblings" talk. It had confused the hell out of Casey, because it meant I was sending mixed messages. I saw the hurt in her eyes before she steeled herself against what I could only assume was disappointment. She said nothing.

Back then, I had avoided her for a couple of weeks, and when I did try to talk to her, she avoided me; which suited us both. Soon we became so good at avoidance; we only saw each other during the trips home. And there was nothing left of our friendship or what it might have grown to be.

And now, all these months later, it appeared we were on the same course to something, only this time I didn't think I could be the one to back out.

I needn't have worried. Casey had it covered.

* * *

The film finished and I flicked the TV to something "innocuous", as instructed by Casey. She was unusually quiet and a sense of foreboding stirred again.

"Go on. Out with it." I said.

Casey sighed; a sound I recognised. It was a sigh of sadness…but determination.

"I've been offered a place on an exchange programme."

"Cool! Where?"

"London."

"You're kidding me! So close to home?"

"London, England."

"Oh."

My next question was unnecessary, because I could tell what the answer was from her face.

"Are you going?" I had to ask all the same.

"Yes."

She explained how the trip would last a year and was largely funded – including bed and board, although she would need to find some sort of work for additional living expenses. She would have a room at one of the London universities and would be enrolled on modules from similar courses to those which she had elected in Canada.

"So how did they pick you? Just randomly?"

Casey was quiet for a long moment.

"No. I applied."

"Why?" I had a feeling I already knew.

"Since Dad died I've wanted to push myself a little. Stretch myself out of my comfort zone. This seemed like a good way to do it." She looked at me. "There are other reasons."

"Us?"

She nodded. "It was only a matter of time before we had another "step" conversation. I thought I would save you the trouble."

Part of me wanted to tell her that I wouldn't have done that…but I wasn't one hundred percent sure that was the truth. So I nodded.

"Thanks. Do the Fam know?"

"Yes. They are excited for me. I think they are planning to visit. Mom is a bit apprehensive, but she understands my reasoning…about Dad, I mean."

I must have looked thoughtful, because she frowned and asked what was wrong.

"Just planning how to prank you across the Atlantic."

She groaned.

"You'll find some way. I'm sure."

"Yeah." I leaned back against the headboard and reached a hand out to brush a thumb against her shoulder. Casey rolled herself into the curve of my arm and rested her head against me.

"Will you email me?" She asked, softly.

"I'll try. I'm not good at letter writing. No doubt the family will keep you up to date on what I'm up to."

"Derek!" She complained. I shrugged. Casey slumped.

"You're a heartless jerk at times."

"I'm not the one moving to England to avoid the _step_ conversation."

She looked at me in disbelief.

"You think we shouldn't have the _step_ conversation?"

"Nah. You're right. It's just…"

"I'm not worth the effort of writing an email."

I grinned at her.

"On second thoughts, don't answer that." She interjected.

I relented and pulled her closer.

"I'll try Casey. Okay?"

"Okay."

She was tight against me now.

"When do you go?"

"Beginning of June."

"Six weeks?" I was astonished.

"It's supposed to give me chance to settle in, find a job etc."

"Six more Fridays?"

Casey lifted her head and looked at me.

"You still want to do this?"

_I'm not ready to stop this._

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to have to start bringing two films a night just to get through the rest of your education."

* * *

I spent as much of those six weeks with Casey as I could without making it obvious that was my purpose. For her part, she actually came to a few of my games, when she had time.

But time she didn't have a lot of. There was a lot of planning, and arrangements to be made so that she could sit the end of year assessments before she went.

And I lost the last Friday before she left, because we went home to see the family.

"I can't believe you're going to England!" Lizzie exclaimed in excitement. "I need to visit!"

"We'll talk about that later, Liz." Nora said. "The tickets will be expensive."

"Yes, but I could use some of Dad's money. I'm sure he would have wanted me to take an opportunity like this."

"Lizzie…later." Nora said, with a laugh. "Let's get Casey over there first."

"If you go, Lizard. I'm coming too." Edwin stated. "You'll need someone to watch your back."

Lizzie laughed. "You can come, Ed, but wouldn't it be more like me watching _your_ back?"

Later, as I was lounging on my bed, telling myself I was not taking Casey to the airport in four days time, she could get a cab, Dad came in.

"So…England." He said. "How do you feel about that?"

"Brits…ew!" I shuddered. Dad smiled.

"It will be strange not having Casey around after all these years. Even if you don't see a lot of each other at college."

I shrugged. "I'll get to play whatever music I like in the car on the way home. What's not to like about that?" I put on a mock thoughtful look. "So. How do you and Nora feel about letting Casey loose on a population of unsuspecting Brits? Do you know any good lawyers over there? I mean, we know she is capable of blunt ass trauma…"

Dad sat on my bed uninvited.

"Derek. It's okay to worry about Casey. You don't have to make a joke of it."

I ignored him. "Of course with Casey, the biggest concern is the opposite sex. You realise this has heartbreak city written all over it?"

Somehow I didn't like the way he looked at me; almost pitying, and with an element of…ew!...understanding.

"Yes. Casey without her guardian angel is a little concerning." Dad said, to my horror. "But she's a big girl now. She'll cope. She'll probably come back engaged to a minor member of the Royal Family."

My eyes flicked up to his.

"No."


	6. Willow

"_Dear Jerk,"_ I typed.

I paused, wondering if I was wasting my time writing this email. But, I needed something to do. My little room with its single bed was quiet and I had only arrived the day before so I had yet to make any friends.

I resumed typing.

"_I would like to say thank you for taking me to the airport…although, given how close I came to missing my flight, I think I'll pass. And I would like to say 'thank you' for helping me to carry my bags…but as you didn't I'll have to pass on that one too._

_The security guards at Heathrow were highly amused by the wind-up teeth in my suitcase, but they would like me to point out that you nearly caused a full scale evacuation of Terminal 3. _

_You are lucky I am used to this._

_Casey."_

I pressed _Send _and started to email the rest of the family but then grinned because even though it was still only 6am in Kingston, there was an almost immediate ping as a message arrived in my Inbox.

"_Dear Space-case._

_We were late because you can't read a map and wouldn't let me break the speed limit. You didn't carry your bags, you pushed the trolley. I started to push it for you and you complained I was banging people's ankles and yanked it off me._

_The teeth…that was your own fault. They don't ask you that 'have you left your baggage unattended' question for nothing. And you of all people should know that you shouldn't leave anything of yours unattended near me._

_Just be grateful it wasn't a little plastic bag of flour._

_For the record, 3416 miles will not be enough to stop me pranking you. _

_You have been warned. _

_Derek."_

I read his reply with amusement and a certain degree of surprise. What was he doing emailing me at 6am? I double-checked the time by looking at my bedside clock with its twin time-zones. Yup. It was definitely 6am.

And how the hell did he know it was 3416 miles from Kingston to London?

"_Dear Derek,_

_It's 6am. What are you doing awake? _

_Signed Casey "Surprised" McDonald.._

_P.S. How do you know it is 3416 miles?"_

I clicked on Send again and fiddled with my laptop whilst I waited for him to reply.

"_Dear "Surprised",_

_Early hockey practice._

_Signed Derek "The Committed Hockey Player" Venturi._

_P.S. I googled it."_

I started typing in the inevitable response.

"_Dear (Should be) "Committed" (to an institution),_

_Don't be ridiculous. Even early hockey practices start after 8am and you normally get up at the last minute._

_Signed Casey "The Baffled"._

_P.S. Why did you google it?"_

I had left my laptop and started to unpack some more of my suitcase before he replied.

"_Dear "Baffled",_

_Because I knew it would bug the hell out of you._

_Derek._

_P.S. So…What's London like?_"

Despite the sentiment in the main email, the postscript seemed like a conversation opener, so I sat down and wrote a longer email.

"_We landed early in the morning, so I saw the sun rise over the city as we made our approach. Heathrow is a way out from the city itself, so by the time I made it into the centre on the train it was daylight. London is massive. It would blow your mind. It is so much bigger than New York._

_I got a cab to the university and reported to the main office which was a little daunting as I was sure there was some mistake and I really shouldn't be here. But when I got there, they were really friendly and even found someone to come with me and show me my room. Apparently, they have put me in a "Hall of Residence" (that means 'dorm') with other overseas students and some post-graduates because we will all be here over the summer when everyone else has gone home._

_The room is in a seventies tower block and from the outside looks like a monstrosity but inside it is very comfortable. I'm on the ninth floor and I have a rarity – an en-suite!_

_I was quite tired after I arrived, so I haven't done much except unpack and take a short walk in the surrounding streets to get some food. I share a little kitchen with five other rooms, so I found a small grocery store and bought some milk and bread and so on._

_The weather here is really nice at the moment, so I am thinking about taking a trip out to explore further afield this afternoon. According to my welcome pack, the best way to get around is by the Tube network, so I guess it is a little like New York. I can't get a head start on my studies as I don't even have a reading list yet, so I am taking the opportunity to plan what things I would like to see in the city. There are so many art galleries and museums, and I'm desperate to take a trip to the British Library although that will have to wait until I have an academic reason for going there._

_Casey. X"_

Only after I sent it, did I realise I had automatically put an 'X' beside my name. I cursed myself, hoping he hadn't noticed.

No such luck.

"_Dear X,_

_Only a keener like you would make a library an important landmark on her sightseeing map! And moving to a country with only one library?! I thought English literature was supposed to be the best?_

_Screw the sunrise. What are the girls like?_

_D._

_P.S.I collided with Red in the Union bar last night. Literally. She threw a glass of Guinness over me, accidentally I think…unless you told her about the laundry mix up?"_

He was winding me up again, I was fairly sure. But the trouble with me is, when it comes to Derek, I just can't walk away from the argument.

"_D,_

_Just google 'British Library'. And before you start on your weird librarian fantasies it's not a lending library. No po-faced women with tight buns - of either kind._

_I didn't tell Red about you putting her underwear in the freezer rather than mine. I would write the Guinness incident off as an accident._

_Casey X._

_P.S. I am not scouting London for potential conquests for you."_

There was a knock at my door as I fired off that last email, so I rose from where I was perched on the edge of the bed and went to open the door.

A tall blonde girl was standing there, grinning.

"Hi! You must be Casey. I'm Willow. I have the room next to yours." From her speech she was clearly British, but I had no idea from which part of my new country. She also looked slightly older than me. I opened my door wider.

"Come in." I welcomed her.

"Are you sure I'm not interrupting?" She asked, but she was already stepping over the threshold and entering my room.

"No. I'm just doing a bit of unpacking and emailing friends. I could do with some company, I feel like I've only spoken three words since yesterday."

She laughed. "I felt a bit like that when I came down from Yorkshire. Believe me, London can feel daunting and lonely no matter where you are from. How about I take you out for a coffee? I know a great little place not far from here where we can sit and watch the world go by and catch up."

My laptop bleeped.

"Sure. It sounds like a great idea. Let me just reply to that email and grab my bag."

Willow nodded and perched on my desk chair.

I opened Derek's email.

"_How did you know I have fantasies about librarians stamping my card? Derek X"_

I pulled a face that was something like an amused grimace. Willow raised her eyebrows.

"I'll explain over coffee." I promised, my hands flying over the keyboard as I typed.

"_Ew! Gross Derek! _

_My next door neighbour has just knocked on my door and invited me to go for coffee. As you seem to have dragged this conversation down to Derek Depths, I've accepted so I'm off!..."_

I paused thoughtfully.

"…_Don't do anything dumb-ass stupid while I'm not there. I don't fancy coming home for another funeral or, worse, having to listen to my mom ranting and raving over you getting some air-head blonde pregnant…"_

Why was the idea of him getting someone else pregnant worse than the idea of attending his funeral? I shook my head to rid it of the fluff that seemed to have accumulated and resumed typing again.

"…_What I mean is don't do anything I wouldn't do…"_

He he. That doesn't leave him many options!

"…_I'll email you soon. Love Casey X."_

I found my shoes and bag while I waited for Derek's reply, making small talk with Willow.

Beep!

"_Case. You took the words right out of my mouth, _babe_! Just stay away from anything male, especially, if you have a tendency to fall over around them. And I fully intend to do almost _everything_ you wouldn't do. That's what being a student is all about._

_Nice to know you think me dying is preferable to you becoming an aunt._

_Love Derek X."_

I frowned and fired back a quick reply.

"_No drugs, Derek!"_

_._

"_Oh for fuck's sake Casey, do I look stupid? No. Don't answer that._

_I promise not to fuck up…okay?_

_Now go and have fun…and let me go back to sleep._

_Hockey practice isn't until ten. Next time, can you email me later in the day?_

_Love Derek X."_

_._

"_You were waiting for me to email? Aw! That's sweet, Derek._

_Talk to you soon._

_Love Casey XX._

_P.S. And it's step-aunt."_

I shut my laptop down and locked it away in my bedside table which had been designed as a sort of safe.

"Right. I'm done. Sorry about that."

Willow grinned. "Who was it? Boyfriend?"

"My step-brother. We have a...complicated relationship." I said, grabbing my keys and moving to the door. Willow followed.

"I look forward to hearing all about it."

I turned to her as I finished locking the door behind us.

"I wouldn't. You'll be sick of it before long."

* * *

Willow was right. The little café was perfect for just sitting, watching and catching up, and before long I was swapping life stories with her. We started off on a good foot, because she didn't automatically assume I was American.

"Which part of Canada do you come from?" She asked right at the start.

"Wow! I think you are the first person so far who didn't ask me which part of the States I come from." I commented. Willow laughed.

"I have a confession. I watch far too much 'Degrassi' and I have a good ear. Let me guess…Toronto?"

"Originally, but my family lives in London, Ontario now. I impressed. Did you say you were from Yorkshire? Which bit?"

"West. A little village just north of Leeds. Well actually quite a way north of Leeds, but saying Leeds makes it easier to find on the map."

"Is it pretty? Yorkshire is supposed to be."

"God's Own Country we call it. Yes. It is. A little bleak at times, but that's what makes it so special."

She had a musical lilt to her voice and I could have listened to her speak for hours…which was a good thing because as we warmed up to each other I realised she had a motor-mouth like Rosie.

"Breathe, Willow." I said after she had launched into a long speech about her post-graduate course on the Bronte's. She grinned and I smiled back. Before long she was quizzing me on my course and family…and eventually, Derek.

"So let me get this straight." She said, sipping a large hot chocolate despite the warm weather. "You fight a lot."

"All the time. He hates me."

"But he got up first thing in the morning to talk to you."

"I know. And he was really nice to me when my dad died. It's just the way we are."

Willow narrowed her eyes.

"You like him?" She said, perceptively.

I picked at the cookie in front of me. "I'm not allowed to." I corrected myself. "I mean I know I'm allowed to, but it would make things really awkward for every one. And he's not interested. We started to become friends when we first left home and he insisted on me calling him my brother."

"But you do like him?"

I didn't answer.

Willow chuckled. "Hark at me! God I'm annoying! I've only known you a couple of hours and I'm already making you feel uncomfortable. Come on! I've got an idea for something that will cheer you up. How are you on water.?"


	7. Independence

6.00am. I tried to remember the last time I had seen those numbers on my alarm clock. It would have been around the time of Dennis' death when Casey wasn't sleeping very well. Yup. It made sense that, yet again, it was Casey who was messing with my sleep pattern.

Reaching for my laptop, I switched it on, wondering if she had emailed the family yet. If she had, she might have CC'd me in on the message and I could see what she was up to. It had been only a day but it felt like years since I had watched Casey pass through the barrier at Toronto airport; through the barrier and out of my life for a year; or longer if Dad's horrifying prediction came true.

I clicked on the icon for my email and was surprised when I saw amongst the twenty new emails in my Inbox, one to me _directly_ from Casey.

I opened it and read.

"_I would like to say thank you for taking me to the airport…although, given how close I came to missing my flight, I think I'll pass. And I would like to say 'thank you' for helping me to carry my bags…but as you didn't I'll have to pass on that one too._

_The security guards at Heathrow were highly amused by the wind-up teeth in my suitcase, but they would like me to point out that you nearly caused a full scale evacuation of Terminal 3. _

_You are lucky I am used to this._

_Casey."_

Her message made me laugh, and strangely reassured me. The 3416 miles between us would not be the end of our…whatever. I would still find ways to get under her skin! I clicked on _Reply_, formulated a witty response and the conversational ping pong between us resumed across the Atlantic.

* * *

Shortly before I drove Casey to the airport, I had come across Nora sobbing in Casey's room. (Casey had gone out with Lizzie to buy some last minute things.) I find tears hard to deal with at the best of times, but they are hardest when I empathise with the person shedding them. My sense of humour failed me and I just sat down beside my step-mom and waited.

"Sorry Derek." She said when the worst was passed. "I know how much you hate weeping women."

I shrugged. "I understand. I could shed tears over Casey leaving too, but I don't think joy is the right sentiment right now."

She laughed at me. Should I be offended?

Step-mom placed a hand on mine.

"Sweetheart. You always know exactly the right thing to say to turn the tear faucet off." She reached up and kissed me on my cheek. "Thank you."

Astonished, I gaped at her.

"Oh put the surprised face away, Derek. I know you said that for comic effect and not because you mean it. You'll miss her as much as we all will."

Then she really freaked me out because she looked seriously at me and said…

"Probably more than the rest of us. It will feel like your right arm has been cut off, won't it? I mean, who are you going to argue with now?" Seeing my frown, she went on. "You've been a double act for so long. A bit like Tom and Jerry."

Eventually, I spoke, shocked into an honest question.

"Will she be okay?"

Nora nodded. "Yes. And this will be good for her, because she needs to do this without me or you. It's going to be hardest on us, I think. It feels like it did when she learnt to walk. I watched her fall down so many times before she managed that. Now look at her. She's the most graceful person I know."  
I snorted. "You could have fooled me."

Nora grinned. "She's graceful around everyone except you. Only you bring out the Klutzilla in her."

"And whichever guy she's currently crushing on."

Casey's mom shook her head. "No actually. You see you were both wrong about that. There was one other thing common to each 'Klutzilla' instance that neither of you saw. You…Derek."

I laughed. "So what? She's crushing on me now?" Nora had to understand how ridiculous that idea was.

"Maybe." And she was serious…and totally not freaked out.

I tilted my head and looked at her.

"Now I understand where Casey gets the insanity from." I stated.

* * *

When I returned to Kingston from the airport, nothing felt right. Even my room was unusually cold and Casey had never even so much as _seen_ it. Later that night, I took Tom up on his suggestion that we went to the Union bar before the words had barely left his mouth.

"Eager, much!" He commented amused.

We left immediately and were soon gripping cold bottles and eyeing the clientele. Or rather Tom was. I was a bit distracted. Casey's only communication with home since she disappeared from my eyesight was a text to Nora saying 'Arrived Safely. Room nice. X'. Nora had immediately phoned me and promised an update if she heard from Casey again.

She hadn't.

I wasn't worried. But I was annoyed at her for not providing details about where she was, how she was doing, who she had met.

"Missing her yet?" My drinking partner asked for the fourth time that day.

"Tom. This is getting boring." I sighed, hoping he wasn't going to continue to rib me about Casey moving to England four times a day for the duration of her placement.

"Really? Coz I've barely started." He said wiggling his eyebrows. _Oh Great!_

Tom's teasing – annoying because he knew too much about our freshman year for me to be too comfortable about his opinions on the Casey-Derek situation- was the least of my worries. The hardest part of Casey being away was me being back in London.

Soon the college year drew to a close; Two months of Casey's placement down, ten to go. Once the final end of year exams were done, I returned to our parents' home. There was no arguing in the car on the way home, because for the first time I travelled alone. I packed up the contents of my room into the Prince, noticing how easily everything fitted for a change now that my step-sister's things were no longer taking up half of the space.

As I handed in my key and made my way out to the car, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

**Don't drive too fast – Casey X**.

Seriously, that girl had a sixth sense sometimes! But it made me smile as I pulled away from Kingston and turned the car towards London…the wrong London.

* * *

That afternoon when I got home, I felt bored. Sam was still away, Ralph was working and as I hadn't kept in touch with any of the female population of my high school, there wasn't even anyone I could call for a date.

Assuming that thought had even crossed my mind.

I ran an errand for Nora, built building brick towers with Robbie, and when Marti came home, played cards for an hour.

When I felt I had done my duty by the family, I took myself off to my room and logged onto my laptop.

"_Have you seriously not arrived yet, or are you ignoring me?" _Casey's email asked. We had been emailing each other regularly for several weeks now.

By "regularly", I mean at least once a day. It was as though we both needed to continue the word-battle even though we were so far apart.

"_I arrived a couple of hours ago, but the fam haven't let me alone since."_ I replied, wondering why this was so important to her.

"_You could have texted."_ She complained.

"_Casey…You sound like Abby."_ I retorted.

"_No I don't. She's far too lenient with you."_

I laughed out loud.

"_How's life?"_ I asked, trying to slip into that easy exchange of details we occasionally managed.

There was a long pause, which I took to be a good sign. It meant that Casey was typing a long reply to my email. I idly started googling while I was waiting.

I was trying to come up with an appropriate long-distance prank because we had got to the point where she would be off-guard as I had left it so long. The trouble was it had to be something that she would be irritated by but not enough to stop emailing me; something to remind her that I exist but without making her wish otherwise.

The first prank I had pulled since she left had been the old favourite of sending off for lots of catalogues and free samples in her name so that her mail box got filled with all sorts of rubbish. That was a favourite prank because it lasted such a long time. After all, once you get on those sorts of mailing lists it is almost impossible to get off them.

Her email when she realised what I had done was filled with threats, promises of violence against my person, and highly amusing.

When Casey eventually replied to my "How's life?" email, I wasn't disappointed.

"_How's Life?Hmmm… You know the thing with England is it has this reputation for being rather boring. (Probably due to the bad weather?) But the reality since I've been here is something quite different. Willow has turned out to be a great friend, with a love of her own country and she has done a great job of showing me around London. She has skipped some of the more obvious sights in order to show me the ghost tours and dungeons. We've been on a "hidden London" tour which has shown us things like tube stations which haven't been used since the war (World War Two) and even that first outing, the trip on the River Thames was an eye-opener._

_I hadn't realised there was so much to see in one place. There are stories for every period in history and for every facet of life. I am totally in love with this city._

_But I think what I love most of all is the diversity. Within a square mile, you can meet someone from every continent. It's unbelievable! Because of Willow I know Americans, Australians, Europeans; people from Botswana, people from China, Indonesia. Not even New York is as ethnically diverse._

_And the weather isn't as bad as people make out. I would quite happily spend a summer's afternoon sitting in an English pub garden watching the world go by._

_Of course, we've done the usual things, The Tower of London (you'll love that), St Paul's, Buckingham Palace, and the wax museum. _

_What amazes me is this is all in the one place. Willow has plans for us to spend the summer travelling the rest of the UK (finances permitting). She says London is a condensation of the rest of the country and that the rest of the UK is as exciting and varied. I honestly think I have fallen on my feet with this friend._

_I have made other friends. There are a couple of other girls in the Halls who I get on with, and through them there are a circle of guys who we hang around with. Most of them are British post-grads, but there are a couple of other nationalities._

_This has done me so much good. I am truly independent."_

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Did it mean she didn't want to come home?

"_Ed wants to know if you are so happy over there, can he have your room?"_ I typed. Yeah, it was fishing, but I didn't care…I needed to know.

"_I miss home. I miss Dad, I miss the family, I even miss you, Derek."_

There were a hundred and one retorts to that.

"_I miss you too."_


	8. Crochet and Other Obsessions

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Your attention please!"

We all turned expectantly and the female lecturer smiled. She was a large, matronly lady with a strong, heavily accented voice. I still wasn't any good at discerning which accent came from where, but the one accent I did recognise, other than Willow's Yorkshire tones was that of east London – mainly because it was so strong. Mrs Woodhouse hailed from the eastern side of London and was probably a "Cockney". (Although, as I came to realise in the course of my time in London, the exact term meant she had to have been born within the sound of the bells of Bow church.) While her accent was strong, however, she was being very careful with her words. The forced "correct speech" sat uneasily on her and gave her the appearance of a sort of reverse Dick van Dyke. She was a little rotund to be Eliza Doolittle.

"Welcome to England and welcome to London. I hope your accommodation is okay and that you are gradually finding your way around the university and the city. If you have any logistical problems or queries, someone from the admin team will be here at the end of this session. My role today is to outline what we expect of you and to hand out some assignments which we would like you to complete over the summer. There are also a number of summer schools running which I would urge you to look at. I've placed details at the back of the room.

Try to make the most of _everything_ this year. I know you think that university is here for your entertainment, but I hate to tell you this…it's not all about sex drugs and rock 'n' roll! The academic opportunities are great too. By all means, enjoy the city and have fun, but don't lose sight of the fact that your whole future may be determined by what use you make of the academic resources available to you."

As she spoke, I smiled to myself. I couldn't believe my luck; to have the opportunity to study in England! The sun was shining outside I had a decent roof over my head and the beginnings of a new friendship. Life couldn't get much better!

Before I left Canada, I had begun to regret my decision to leave, because I knew I would miss the closeness of my family and existing support system. The one thing I clung to was that the academic opportunities were so good. I wasn't sure what exactly I wanted to do in the future, but nearly all of my courses centred on Literature and writing; I had even picked a journalism module. I thought I would probably end up doing some form of writing, though I wasn't certain if I would write books or journalistic articles or edit other people's work. I liked books, and I liked the written word. Where better to learn about English Literature than in England? It was after all the birthplace of Shakespeare, Chaucer, and so on. I couldn't wait for the lectures to begin.

(I'm sure Derek would have muttered "keener!" at that.)

I had made the decision to leave because my father's death had opened my eyes to the world around me. I realised I was stuck in a rut. Moving away from my comfort zone would be good for me. It had also meant moving away from Derek.

I hadn't worked out yet if that was a good thing.

Mrs Woodhouse rambled on and I took notes. But, part of me was still thinking over the change in me. I had become my confident self again. Not only was the heavy grief over my father's death easing to a manageable level, but for the first time in a very long time, I wasn't look for romance or a relationship.

My "romantic" life at Queens had followed a similar path to that of school. I met guys, dated them for a while and then at some point they wanted to move to the _next step_.

Don't get me wrong…sometimes so did I. Despite what Derek might say, and my vocal expression of my morals, I wasn't actually a prude. But, though I wasn't averse to the occasional sexual "experience", and a couple of times had got to the point of actually _trying_ to have full sex, I was still a virgin.

Somehow my sub-conscious always knew whether sex with the current guy was a good idea. Unfortunately, it sometimes left it to the moment we were naked before it kicked in. Changing your mind at the last minute is not good for a relationship. On both the occasions where that had happened, it had been terminal.

So I was happy to be single; young, single, carefree (in a Casey McDonald manner) and in a vibrant, interesting city. I wasn't looking to change things.

* * *

"Come on. Up and at 'em, Case!" Willow said looming over me. She had picked the lock on my room as usual so that she could come and drag me from my enjoyment of Chaucer's 'The Wife of Bath.' I once asked her where she learnt to pick locks, and she had laughed and tapped her nose. When I frowned at her she admitted she had "friends in Gipton." That of course made me frown even more till she explained that 'Gipton' was a less than salubrious suburb of Leeds.

"I'm reading, Wils." I answered, yawning slightly, because I had actually dozed off and she had woken me up.

She picked up the book, glanced at what I was reading and snorted.

"Ha! Bloody men! Have you read this?"

I shook my head and sat up. "I was trying to…" I said pointedly.

She snorted. "Geoffrey Chaucer was an arrogant fool. He had the knight go on a quest to find out what women really want and what does he discover? That they want _mastery over their husbands_! Yeah right! We all know what women want: money, looks and a guy with a straight penis."

I rolled my eyes. I had known Willow for six weeks now. I was past the point of shocking. Besides, Willow was too much like Rosie.

Willow grinned.

"Come on. Let's go out and find one."

"Go out and find what?" I asked innocently, though I knew damn well.

"A straight p…"

"I get the message!" I interrupted. "I'm not interested. I am not going to ruin this year by falling in love or worse."

She laughed. "Okay. But you can come and keep me company while I do. There's a new club opened up I want to check out. That cute guy from the admin office said he might go tonight. Come with."

I sighed. "Why don't you go without me? I'll just be in your way."

Willow flopped onto my bed. "I'll not have you sit here and mope, pet." I smiled at her term of affection. After the first time where I wondered if she was going to pat me on the head, I realised she used the term "pet" as others might the word "love".

"Who's moping? I'm just trying to get a head start on Chaucer. It's a different language, Wils."

"It's English!"

"No. It's _Middle_ English. 'Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote' and all that. It takes a lot of getting used to."

"Well I still say you're moping. I thought you were happy over here. It doesn't do to fret about missing your family."

"I don't miss my family."

She gave me a pointed look.

"Not much." I amended.

"You spend _hours_ emailing them."

I stood up, wanting to distract her. She was a good friend but she was also a little devil and she loved to dig into everyone else's business. I moved to the closet to look for something to wear. I knew I had lost the battle.

"I don't. Just the other day, mom was complaining that she hadn't heard from me in two days."  
"Two days? Positively a lifetime! I haven't spoken to my ma in over a fortnight – and she's one of my best friends! And you email _someone_ every day." Willow said. Her eyes narrowed. "If it isn't your mother, I bet it's that _brother_ of yours." She made a point of saying 'brother'; rather than '_step-_brother'. She knew it would get a reaction out of me.

I answered her quietly and without drama.

"_Step_-brother." I whispered, but I didn't deny the allegation.

"I knew it!" She said delightedly.

Deciding on red jersey dress, I started to change.

"Hardly a triumph." I complained. "I told you how it was the day I met you."

"You do realise most people would have _moved on_ by now don't you? I mean teenage crushes tend to end when you aren't a teenager anymore."

"It's not a crush! God! This is _Derek_ we're talking about; the most irritating man on the planet. And believe me when I say I'm flattering him by using the 'm' word. The guy is so...immature."

Willow raised an eyebrow. "I've seen the photo, pet. He is _not_ immature."

I sighed. "Okay. Puerile." I stated, sitting down at my desk to add some make-up.

"Puerile, huh? So how come you two email each other so much? It seems to me you two have something going on."

"Um…yeah…open warfare."

She sat up from where she had started to recline on my bed. "Warfare?"

"Yeah. You know like shots fired over the bow. You saw his latest prank."

"The subscription to Crochet Weekly?" She giggled. "I still think you should have crocheted him a willy warmer and sent it to him."

"A what?"

"A jock strap! Get out more!"

I was quiet for a moment and then the giggles hit me.

With avengence.

"What?" Willow asked, confused.

"N-Nothing!" I coughed.

"No come on. What tickled your fancy?"

I choked. Her expressions sometimes _really_ didn't help.

"I just had a mental image of Derek…" I gasped a breath. "…in the hockey team's locker room with a crocheted jock strap!" I managed to splutter out.

Willow caught my mood and the joke. She started to giggle and then it all plunged down hill from there.

We rocked with laughter.

"Jesus wept Case! Just when I think you're a tight arse…you really know how to surprise me." She said, wiping tears from her cheeks.

* * *

Willow decided she needed to visit the bathroom and touch up her make-up after our little giggle-fest so she left me, promising to _knock on my door_ in ten minutes. I reached for my laptop and checked my email.

"_Hey Lame-brain! Staying in tonight, crocheting or are you going to alphabetise your course texts?"_

I rolled my eyes.

"_Actually, moron, I'm off clubbing."_

I hadn't realised he was actually logged on, but the reply came almost immediately.

"_Great! See you back on here in an hour."_

So he thought I wouldn't last the distance.

"_It'll take more than an hour. Don't wait up, _Babe!_"_ I emailed back.

"_We'll see."_ Was all he wrote.

* * *

The club was heaving and so were a lot of the clientele. Evidently, alcohol was quite cheap and most of the patrons were drinking…a lot.

I stuck to my staple of rum and coke; one, because I could actually stomach the taste and two because I knew how many I could handle. Normally, I would stay with Willow until about eleven and then head off home. Tonight, however, I was responding to Derek's challenge.

I wouldn't be going home until the early hours.

I sighed. Now I would be ridiculously tired for tomorrow which I had planned out as a "nail Chaucer" day. Not literally, obviously since the guy had been dead for something like six hundred and nine years! But, I was determined to complete my read through of the Canterbury Tales. I was also going to look into the possibility later in the summer of catching a train into Kent and visiting the place where the pilgrims were making for. (Willow thought I was crazy. She said I should just visit York which was much the same only nicer. I pointed out that as a "Yorkshire lass" she was just biased and she grinned.)

So two hours into my visit to the nightclub, I was leaning against a pillar, sipping my first "Bacardi and coke" and wondering how long I could leave it before I could return home.

Oh, I knew that I could go home now and so long as I didn't log on, Derek would never know the difference. But, I also knew Derek and I knew he would call me out on it. So I stayed.

And the whole time I thought about how it would be so much more of a victory if he was standing beside me, watching me.


	9. James

After a while, I became aware that someone _was_ watching me; a tall, thin man of about twenty four. His eyes flicked to meet mine and I realised they were green. _So green_ I was convinced he was wearing coloured contacts. I mentally shook my head, laughing at the vanity of some people wearing contacts just for appearances.

But I couldn't really laugh at him, because he was one of the most attractive men I had ever seen with a strong face and jaw. I had thought he looked bored, but when his eyes met mine I realised he was actually having a lot of fun – because he was watching and assessing everyone in the room. I wondered if he was mentally labelling them; which would mean he was mentally labelling me.

He was leaning against the wall, casually, and as he watched me, I watched him.

I wasn't the only girl (or guy) in the room paying attention to him. I could see several interested pairs of eyes looking at him. It made me wake up and look away.

After all those years of living with Derek I had no desire to stroke some vain stranger's ego.

Willow was on the dance floor jiggling along to some dance track. Slinging my purse across my body, I went and joined her. She grinned at me and introduced the guy she was dancing with. I didn't bother to learn his name because this was part of Willow's routine. She would dance with a whole range of guys and then ditch all of them at the end of the evening. It appeared she was already getting bored with this current dance partner because she turned her back on his erratic movements and faced me. We slipped easily into our usual dance steps (what pair of girls doesn't have a dance routine between them!) and before long were laughing and giggling.

Three songs and a lot of laughter later, we staggered from the dance-floor weary from the dancing and made our way to the bar.

Willow used her height and overwhelming presence to get the barman to serve us. Soon the barman had slid Willow's pint of Theakstons (!) and my (final) rum and coke onto the bar. Before Willow could pay however, a hand thumped a ten pound note onto the bar with a smack.

We both turned to see the owner of the hand and I looked up into that pair of green eyes.

"I'll get this."

Wow! His voice was as attractive as his face. Willow stunned me though.

"Bloody hell! Quick Casey, catch the moths, James has opened his wallet!!!!"

Yup! Stood to reason she knew him.

"Ha bloody ha Wils!" he said, and I caught the slight posh northerner accent and made the connection before Willow had even started speaking.

"Casey, this is James. We went to school together in Leeds."

"Gipton?" I asked her.

"Jesus no! This one's one of the good guys."

James raised an eyebrow.

"Casey here is interested in my lock-picking skills and how I acquired them."

He laughed. "And you told her about Stu?"

Wils nodded.

"James knows Stu too."

My turn to raise an eyebrow. "And can you pick locks too?" I questioned wondering why it felt like I was flirting. _Hmm Casey_ (my little Derek voice kicked in) _Perhaps it's because you are._

James smiled enigmatically. "I don't need to. I have other skills."

Wils snorted. "What the bastard means, hun, is that doors spring open as he walks up to them He can charm his way into anywhere."

Yes. I could totally believe that. James looked uncomfortable which made Willow laugh even more.

"Come on. Let's go find somewhere to sit down." She suggested, and the three of us moved to a nearby table which had suddenly become free as soon as James walked towards it.

Willow didn't ditch James at the end of the evening. They were obviously good friends although I could tell friendship was all there was between them. As we sat and talked, the warmth between them was touching and I could see that they treated each other almost as brother and sister; a bit like Derek and I _should_ be.

What also became obvious was that Willow was pushing me towards James. It was little things like walking down the street as we left the club, when the path narrowed and we couldn't walk three abreast, she stepped back and let us walk together; I might have taken it as common courtesy except she grinned pointedly at me – and I _know_ Willow.

"So how are Anna and Simon?" Willow asked. It appeared that Simon was James' brother and Anna was Simon's fiancée.

"Great." James said, but the word was forced.

Willow sighed. "Get over it, Jay. She never did anything to encourage you. Don't let it hurt your friendship."

He flicked his eyes to me as though nervous about talking in front of me.

"Casey's discreet." Willow said. I cringed. He didn't want me to be "discreet" he wanted Willow to not talk about what was obviously an embarrassing subject in front of me.

"Wils…" He warned.

"Anyway. Doesn't she have a younger sister? Maybe you should go for the younger sister.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Willow, don't you start. I am not going after Lucy!" Raw nerve touched there, methinks. "You're as bad as bloody Mel!"

Willow grinned and linked her arms through his and mine.

"Sorry. Come on. Let's go back to Casey's for some herbal tea."  
"Some what?" James didn't sound impressed. I looked around Willow at him.

"Don't worry. I have hot chocolate too."

"Good." He said flashing his green eyes angrily at Willow again.

* * *

James stayed the night in my room.

And let me just say before anyone starts leaping to conclusions, so did Willow. It wasn't hugely through choice but we all sort of passed out on my bed; me at the head end, James in the middle and Willow in serious danger of falling off the end.

If this was one of those weird on-line fiction sites or a cheap porn movie it would have turned into a threesome.

Fortunately, for my sanity and everyone else's, this was real life. In real life, students do this sort of thing. They occasionally crash in their friend's room, even though there isn't enough space. And yes, sometimes, girls do end up spending the night on beds with guys they have just met – and it is all completely innocent. Part of me wished Derek could see this, because he would never believe I was capable of it. Until that moment, I wasn't sure I was either.

As I stirred the following morning – actually, nearer lunchtime, I wondered what sort of response my lack of email to Derek when I got home would produce.

I found out very soon.

I had woken up with a crick in my neck from the weird angle I was lying in. James (fully dressed!) was lying behind me, his head now on my pillow – clever trick, I wondered how he had managed that seeing as he had been slumped much further down the bed. At some point, Willow must have fallen off the bed and given up, because she and my beanbag were wrapped around each other on the floor.

Just as I was working out how I could extricate myself from my bed without the gorgeous 'almost stranger' waking up, my cell phone rang.

"Are you home yet?" A very tired and irritable Derek barked down the phone.

"What?" I asked sleepily yawning.

"I said, are you home yet?" What was he pissed at? Oh yeah. I hadn't emailed him to say I got home safely.

"Yes. Derek calm down. I'm in bed. I didn't get in until late and I had visitors so I couldn't get my laptop out."

"Visitors?" Derek asked…

…at about the same time as James woke up, lifted his head and said in a very sleepy voice, "Morning angel, what's for breakfast?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"You still there?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm still here." Derek appeared to be finding it hard to talk. "It sounds as though I'm disturbing something. Who is he?"  
I didn't like his tone. It was none of his business.

"A friend."

"A close friend?"

"Define 'close'." Because right now, he's lying next to me in bed. Does that make him 'close'?

"Never mind. I don't want to know." And with that, Derek rang off.

I looked at my cell phone in surprise. I must have been frowning because James sat up and looked at me.

"Who was that?" He asked.

"My brother." I answered. Why did I say that?

On the floor a little voice said. "Her step-brother. Casey has a bit of a crush on him, and judging by that little exchange, which obviously I only heard one side of, he has a jealous streak a mile wide."

"Don't be ridiculous. He was just doing the protective brother act."

"Yeah right Casey." Willow's tone was sceptical.

James leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Just ignore her, she gets like this."

I turned and smiled at him, before climbing out of bed to go and make toast.

I was pottering around our little kitchen, still dressed in the clothes I had gone out in the night before when I heard a sound behind me. James, looking dishevelled and possibly even more attractive for it, had followed me.

"How long have you known Willow?" I asked, turning back to sniff the milk and make sure it was still drinkable.

"Too effing long. Since she tried to set me up with her best friend in kindergarten." He said with a smile. "She's like a little Yorkshire terrier. Once she gets sight of a little plot bunny she's straight down the hole yanking it out."

I laughed. He crossed to lean against the countertop.

"Did I cause a problem? When you were on the phone?" He clarified.

I shrugged. "She's wrong about Derek. If he's pissed about it in anyway it will probably because he didn't get laid last night and he can't bear the idea that I might have done when he didn't. We have a very complicated relationship."

"Define complicated."  
"Think 'Tom and Jerry'." James laughed, his eyes sparkling.

"Oh."  
"Yeah. Oh. We've been fighting since we were fifteen." I thought back as I spoke, considering the fights we had had over the years. Then without being conscious of why I was doing it, I thought of all the 'moments' we had shared over the years, and the awkwardness that had sprung up between us for a while; an awkwardness which had changed with the death of my father bringing a closeness that was warm and inviting, and scary as hell.

"You probably ought to call him back." James said softly, reading my mood.

"Yeah." I agreed. I took a breath. "So what's the deal with Anna and Lucy?" I asked without thinking. "Sorry. I'm nosey as hell sometimes. It's been worse since I've known Willow."

James smiled. "It's a long story."

"S'ok. I shouldn't have asked."

He straightened and took his own deep breath. "Why don't I take you out for tea this afternoon and fill you in?"

Green eyes…

"Yes. That would nice. What time?" I smiled.

* * *

**AN: You know how everyone who writes on here has a novel they are working on IRL? Well I'm no exception. And James is one of the main characters in my novel. After writing 150,000 words of the book I've hit massive writer's block (it's lasted 6 months and was the whole reason I started writing fanfiction). Anyway, I miss writing about James. If he really existed he would be the only man my husband would ever need to worry about!**

**In my mind James is destined for someone specific, though. Writing about him getting together with someone other than that person would be like Casey ending up with someone other than Derek. Ain't going to happen, whether it's in my novel or in this fic.**

**Just telling you all that for reassurance purposes.**


	10. High Tea

The green eyes…weren't contacts. They really were that vivid green colour. The contrast with his almost black hair and pale skin was stark.

It wasn't until we were out in daylight that I realised it though. James had been back to his apartment to change and had now returned to take me out. His family rented a small two bedroom apartment close to the university for him, although he told me that it had the dual purpose of providing his grandfather, Mel with somewhere to stay when work brought him to London.

"Have you ever had a proper English High tea?" he asked as we left my building. I shook my head.

He grinned. "I hope you're hungry."

We had left Willow in her room because she had some work to do, but I got the feeling she was being tactful. I wasn't sure that I was actually going on a date, but I appreciated the thought. At least if she wasn't there I could talk properly with James and he might answer my impertinent questions about his family.

He led me through the maze of streets to the local tube station and then navigated us across the city towards Bond Street.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a while.

"I'm taking you for the best afternoon tea in London." He said cheerily.

"Oh? Where?"

"Here." He stated and when I looked up I swallowed hard.

Claridges.

I'm Canadian. I've been in London for only a few short weeks. Even I know about Claridges.

"Are you serious?" I gasped in disbelief.

"Yup. Why?"

"James I can't afford to pay for tea here!"

"Good. Coz you aren't and I am."

My eyes widened. "I can't let you." I knew how expensive afternoon teas there were because when I had done my extensive ("Keener") research into London, Claridges was one of the things I had wanted to experience. It was a shock when I found out that a cup of tea cost £35 _per person_!

"That's C$58 for a cup of tea, James!"

He laughed. "Not exactly. Come on, please? I've already reserved a table and I would hate for it to go to waste. If it makes you feel better, you won't want to eat tonight."

Against my better judgement, I let him propel me into the marble elegance and suddenly his insistence on me dressing up, and his own appearance in a dark jacket and trousers with a smart black shirt open at the neck made sense.

"Wow!" I gasped looking around me at the opulence. "Do you come here often?" I asked more as a joke than anything else.

"Sometimes." He said in all seriousness. I narrowed my eyes at him. He shrugged. "Mel has a weakness for their cucumber sandwiches."

"If you're trying to impress me, you succeeded." I stated. He chuckled.

"Not exactly. But I thought that you might like, as a foreigner, to experience something quintessentially British. Look at it this way, this is in lieu of me taking you out to dinner. If I had taken you to a London restaurant it probably would have cost the same."  
I couldn't fault his logic, and right now I didn't want to.

We were greeted by a smartly dressed (what an understatement!) waiter who checked our reservation and led us to a small table near the window. I gazed around me at the green, cream and gold interior and the matching green striped cups on the tables. I knew they would probably be the finest porcelain.

The room was packed with a variety of people all chatting and tucking into what looked every type of cake available. On each table was a cake stand and I could clearly see a selection of cakes that made my eyes water.

The waiter came over to take our order and James told him we just wanted the straight forward Afternoon Tea.

"And which type of tea, sir?"

James raised an enquiring eye at me. I looked at him in panic.

"Which teas do you have?" I asked in ignorance.

"We have over thirty teas available, Madam."

James took pity on me. "I think an English Breakfast Tea would perhaps be the best." The waiter smiled, nodded and disappeared off somewhere.

We were still discussing mindless banalities when the waiter returned pushing a small trolley. He bent down and retrieved from the lower level a beautiful teapot, with steam coming from its spout. He placed the pot in the middle of the table.

As he turned to pick up the other items on the trolley, he lowered his head to mine and whispered, "If you think it is bad trying to choose one of thirty teas, pity me. I have to be able to recite them all!"

I looked up at him incredulous but he just smiled and nodded confirmation. James hid a small grin. Then my eyes widened as the waiter started placing small trays of crust-less sandwiches and other food items on the table. When he had finished I could do nothing but stare at the food.

"We're supposed to eat all this?" I asked. James nodded.

"Traditionally, the English tended to eat lunch around twelve o'clock and their evening meal at eight. That's rather a long time to go without eating, so at four o'clock they would have High Tea. It's supposed to be a snack. But in the more affluent houses, it became a sort of competition for who could provide the most mouth-watering fare." He smiled. "Don't worry. I have a big appetite."

"You'll need it." I said.

"So." He said after a while. "Anna and Lucy."

"Sorry." I said, regretting making him talk to me.

"It's okay, Casey. I don't mind." He sighed.

"I met Anna at university in Leeds and I've had a bit of a crush on her ever since. But the problem was my brother met her at the same time and they had some sort of a destiny kick. They've been together ever since."  
"Did you tell her?"

"Eventually. But not until after she was engaged, when she asked me why I wasn't happy for her." He looked away. "You know if she had laughed at me, I could have handled it…but she was _understanding_."

"Ouch!" I said.

"I see you get the point."

"And Lucy?"

He huffed. "That's the long part of the story. Lucy is Anna's younger sister. She's five years younger than us. For various reasons I haven't seen her since she was fourteen, yet the family seem to think it is funny to joke about her being _my_ destiny."

"Is she attractive?"

He laughed. "No. Braces and spots and clumsy as hell."

"Poor girl." I sipped at my tea. "She might have grown up, you know."

He shrugged. "I expect I'll find out at the wedding. I'm not looking forward to it. I'll have to make polite conversation and stuff in front of the rest of the family."

"Maybe you can hide among the other guests." I suggested.

He laughed. "Casey, the entire wedding party numbers thirty three. I have as much chance of avoiding her as I have of avoiding that rather tempting looking Eccles cake."

He picked the said item up and rather gracefully demolished it.

The contrast between the way _he_ ate and the way Derek consumed his food was stark.

"When is the wedding?"

"Two days before Christmas." He said when his mouth was empty.

"Why's the wedding party so small?"

"Anna and Lucy lost their parents when Lucy was thirteen. Anna had to fight to keep custody of Lucy because they had no other relations. They sold their big family home and bought a smaller house so that they could both afford to go to university. Since Anna met my grandfather, Mel, he has been Lucy's other guardian."

"Unusual."

"Maybe, but apparently, unknown to us, Mel knew Anna's parents. So when he reconnected with her family it was like regaining a friend. We're all very close."

"Except you and Lucy."

He pulled a face. I chuckled.

"What?" he asked.

"Your face reminds me of my own when people ask me about Derek."

I wondered why, faced with a vision of perfection in front of me – correction – a _rich_ vision of perfection, my mind kept turning to Derek. And why did I feel the need to mention Derek to James?

"Your turn." He said. "Tell me about your family."

"Where do you want me to start?" I asked.

He leaned back in his chair. "How did you wind up with a step-brother?"

I groaned, but started the tale.

* * *

"How was it?" Willow asked me when I returned, alone, to my room.

"I am stuffed." I complained. "I cannot eat another thing. James kept making jokes about rolling me home to the Halls."

Willow raised an eye. "And how was James?"

"He's nice." I stated non-committedly.

"Nice."

"Yes. Nice. He was telling me all about Anna and Lucy." I hoped that would distract her from a question I couldn't answer.

It did.

"Really? Tell all."

I rolled my eyes at my gossip of a friend.

"He talked about how they met, and about how Lucy is much younger than Anna with braces and spots."

Willow roared with laughter. "That guy is completely clueless."

"Oh?"

"It's been five years since she was pimply with buck teeth. Boy has he got a shock waiting for him at the wedding. I'm so looking forward to seeing his face."

"You're going?" I must have sounded surprised.

"Yeah. My parents know Mel."

"What's Lucy like?"

"She has hair to die for?"

"Excuse me?"

My friend grinned. "She has this fantastic colour of hair. You know the sort that everyone tries to match with dye, but hers is all natural. Anyway, you'll meet her soon enough."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You're going to spend Christmas in Yorkshire with me. I'm going to the wedding, and I'm allowed to bring a guest."

* * *

Later that night, I managed to finally get round to emailing Derek. I had tried to phone him but his cell just rang out. I wondered if he was screening my calls. The thought made me angry/

"_Didn't Abby ever tell you it is rude to hang up on someone? And to ignore their calls._

_Look Derek. I don't care if you didn't get laid last night, there was no need to be rude like that. If I want to have people stay over in my room then I can._

_And don't jump to conclusions without all the hard facts. You're judging me by your standards._

_Casey."_

I thought about signing it 'Love Casey X' the way I normally did, but when I thought back to his behaviour this morning, I was too angry to.


	11. ShutOut

_London, Ontario: Earlier that day._

I had assumed when I finally got hold of Casey that I would be able to go to bed and sleep through the morning. It was 6am and I hadn't slept all night.

Yes, that was my own fault. I had planned to go to a party at the home of one of my school friends, but when Casey didn't react to the annoying email I had sent her, I knew she hadn't reached home yet. I couldn't leave the house.

By 7am, UK time – 2am Ontario time – I was more than a little concerned.

Screw that, I was going crazy.

Common sense told me she was probably home, but had not logged on. Or maybe she had logged on and somehow had managed to hold back the anger and not react to my email. I quickly discounted the latter option, I had specifically worded it so that there was no doubt she would respond.

At 11am (UK), I gave in and phoned her, wondering why I hadn't done so sooner. (Could you imagine the ear-ache if I had???)

It had been a couple of months since I had heard Casey's voice. And when she answered, I almost caught myself in a smile at the sleepy sound. I remembered the way she had spoken when she slept beside me those times; the ones where she was still grieving for her father and the times when we both fell asleep watching movies in her room.

I was brought from my thoughts suddenly by the sound of a male voice close to her and sounding equally sleepy.

"Morning Angel, what's for breakfast?"

WTF?

* * *

"A man? The dark horse!" Tom exclaimed to me on the phone.

I felt like a girl.

Why, given the presence of a man in my step-sister's room, a man who obviously slept there last night, did I feel I suddenly needed to phone a friend????

"_Derek Venturi. You still have: Ask the audience, your 50/50 option or Phone a friend. Which one will it be?"_

"_I'll phone a friend, please."_

A friend who knew what was going on with me and Casey…correction, a friend who had as much of an idea about it as I did.

"Not helping, Tom." I said in answer to his "dark horse" comment.

"So…how did you react?" he asked.

Silence.

"Oh Shit. What did you say?" Tom groaned.

I told him.

"Moron." My _friend_ said.

"I know. What do I do?"

"Phone her back and apologise."

"Tom. Do you know nothing about the relationship I have with Casey? I do _not_ apologise to her…ever."

"I know you have _no_ relationship with Casey but you might get one if you suck it up, act like a man and say, 'hey Case, I might have come across as a bit of dickwit just now. Sorry.'"

"Even if I was inclined to apologise to her, which I'm not, I can't phone back I might interrupt something."  
"Like what?"

_Could I say the words?_

"Umm…something."

_No. Because I'm an imbecile._

"You mean she might be having sex when you called." He said thoughtfully. "Yes. Good point. Email her."

"Tom!" I groaned.

"Derek. Email her." I heard him shuffle in the background. "Right. I've got to go. The parents are going out and that cute girl from the deli I told you about is coming over. Don't call me again today, unless you want to die a cold and unpleasant death."

I hung up and flopped back on my bed, glad that the rest of the family had gone out and I would have some time to collect my thoughts…or rather find some way to completely erase them.

* * *

"_Didn't Abby ever tell you it is rude to hang up on someone? And to ignore their calls._

_Look Derek. I don't care if you didn't get laid last night, there was no need to be rude like that. If I want to have people stay over in my room then I can._

_And don't jump to conclusions without all the hard facts. You're judging me by your standards._

_Casey."_

When I got her email, I did see her point, honestly. And there was hope from the last paragraph where she talked about me getting the wrong idea.

But it still went against the grain to apologise.

"_I was supposed to go to a party last night. I didn't because I was waiting for your stupid email. What you do or don't do is up to you Casey. _

_Derek."_

After I sent it, I realised it probably wasn't the wisest thing for me to have done. Her reply came soon enough.

"_Fine. I don't expect you to wait in for my emails. You'll miss a lot of parties if you continue doing that. I'm a big girl Derek I can take care of myself. And if I need help, I have _friends. Don't put yourself out."

I didn't reply. I grabbed my coat and stormed out of the house under a black cloud of temper.

* * *

I was home because it was still the Summer break, but being in London without Casey felt strange. Her room was empty and felt cold, despite the heating. I had meant it in that earlier email. I missed her.

After a week of not emailing each other, I stopped looking in my Inbox every morning and night. I checked once a day but, I couldn't even use it to contact my other friends. I spent as little time as possible in the house.

The friends I hung around with were the ones who either didn't know Casey, or who were unlikely to ask about her.

It was starting to feel like the time we drifted apart before. Except this time there has been a definite argument, and a specific hurt.

Tom came to London for a visit about a fortnight into the fight. He waited until we were bowling with Sam before he asked. The bastard didn't wait until we were alone, either.

"Did you apologise?" He asked as he straightened from bowling an unbelievable shot.

"No." I replied. Sam raised an eyebrow but neither of us enlightened him.

"What does she say about it?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't heard from her in two weeks."

Tom had raised his beer to his lips but stopped.

"Venturi you are a prize prick!" He announced. "Way to go pushing her into lover boys arms."

Sam had bowled his shot and was walking back to his place on the bench.

"Girl trouble?" He asked.

Tom turned to him.

"Derek phoned her to see if she was okay, woke her up and while they were talking, a strange guy said "morning angel, what's for breakfast" in the background."

"Ouch! So did you dump her?"

Tom laughed. "They hadn't got that far. And they won't get that far unless Derek stops being such a dickwit and apologises."  
Sam frowned. "Apologises?"  
"He didn't take it well and hung up on her before she could explain."

Sam looked at me. "You didn't give her chance to explain?" He asked. "Dude, that is plain stupid. It might have been her brother or something."

This made Tom bellow with laughter. I kicked him in the shins. This was dangerously close to Sam finding out that it was Casey.

Sam looked confused. "What's so funny?"

Tom looked pointedly at me. "Tell him."

I shook my head.

"I don't want to _date_ her. I just want to know what the fuck he was doing in her room."  
"She'd have told you, if you'd apologised and gave her chance. And I'm still not convinced about that "not dating" thing."

"I told you. I don't apologise. Especially not to her."

A light went on in Sam's head.

"Are we talking about Casey?" he asked, astonished. I groaned. God was it that obvious?

"Yup." Said Tom triumphantly.

"Casey McDonald had a guy stay over in her room?" Sam was incredulous. "Wow!"

"What's so surprising about that?"

"That's not the Casey, _I _dated."

Tom looked interested. "You dated Casey?"

"Yeah for several months when she first joined our school."

"And how was that?"

Sam grinned. "Intense. Casey has a very…determined way of dating. She has a fixed idea of how her boyfriend should behave. It's rather cute actually – unless you're the guy." He turned to me. "I thought you two were getting on better. What's all this about dating?"  
"We weren't dating. We were…erm…sort of friends." Sam laughed. "And if you tell anyone I used the 'F' word, I'll kick your fucking butt."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Tom. "How long's this been going on?" he asked, a smirk on his face. Tom matched the smirk.

"On and off since they got to Queens. There have been a couple of times where I seriously thought he was going to come back to his room and announce that they'd done the deed, but no go so far. Did you see this coming?"

Sam chuckled. "Oh yeah! The first inkling was the first time I met her. He bust a gasket when I started dating her. They've been going down this route since they were fifteen."

I wasn't impressed. "Go fuck yourselves, the pair of you!" I grouched, but they were enjoying themselves too much to care.

* * *

Weeks turned into a month, and soon I was back at Queens.

I still hadn't heard from Casey.

She emailed the family though. They discussed her communications around the table. I heard all about the trip to 'Claridge's' that "James" had taken her on. She hadn't confirmed it, but I was convinced that "James", or "Jay" as she called him in her emails home, was the guy in her bed.

And from the tone of her emails home, things were hotting up.


	12. A Little Honesty Goes A Long Way

"Interesting manoeuvre, Case." James said, grinning as he leaned over me. His bare, well-formed chest was shiny with sweat, and I felt pretty ragged myself. My breath came in pants, but I grinned back.

"I almost had you." I stated. He laughed and sat back on his heels, his own breath I noted was far from steady.

"Casey. I'm a 'Master' in three different martial arts. There was absolutely no way you would ever come close to "having me"." His eyes sparkled as he said it and I knew his words had two meanings. I took the proffered hand and let him pull me up from the floor.

"However," He continued. "You are getting really good at combat. You more than hold your own."

I straightened my workout clothes and followed him across the room to where he had left our bags.

James and I were finished "training" for the day. When he found out I had dabbled in kick-boxing for a little while at school he had insisted on teaching me some more martial art moves which he said would improve my muscle tone _and_ make me safer as a single woman in London. His own skills had been taught to him by his grandfather Mel who I had yet to meet.

"Are you coming back to mine for lunch?" He asked. I nodded.

"If that's okay."  
"Of course, love. When do you have to meet Willow?"

"I don't. She's working late tonight at the library. She has a difficult tutorial with her mentor tomorrow."

"Cool. So just you and me then?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"You look ridiculous when you do that. Don't." I complained. James shrugged and pulled his t-shirt over his head running a hand through his hair.

"You want to shower at mine too?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Or you could just use the college showers?" He suggested. I pulled a face. "I'm not trying it on." He said, pushing the door to the studio open.

I squeezed past him as he held the door. "I know you aren't." I replied truthfully.

We left the building and made our way down the street in the direction of his apartment which was only a few streets away. It was a couple of months since I met James and I had been there several times now.

We walked in silence for a few blocks and then I couldn't help myself. As we drew close to his home, I asked him.

"Why?"  
He frowned. "Why what?"

"Why don't you?"  
"Sorry? Why don't I _what_?" he was rummaging in his pockets for his keys.

"Make a move…on me." I finished as he reached his door and put the key in the lock.

James looked up sharply. "Do you want me too?"

"No. I just wondered why, considering we're close friends and have been for months, you haven't even mentioned it."

The key turned in the lock and the door opened. We entered the apartment and James dumped our bags in the hallway and made his way to the kitchen. Picking his usual spot for leaning up against the counter, he was thoughtful.

"Casey, you're beautiful and intelligent and a fantastic friend, but I'm not a masochist."

I bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Relax, darling. I meant that over the past months I've got to know you I've paid attention." He brushed the hair from my face.

"Remember when we first met you told Willow and then me that your relationship with Derek was like Tom and Jerry?"

I nodded, frowning because I had no idea where he was going with this.

"You showed me his emails and told me the stories of how your relationship works." He paused. "Case. I would be Spike. And it's not called 'Tom and Jerry and Spike'. Only 'Tom and Jerry'." He anticipated my objection. "Oh. I know that you and he aren't talking right now, but, love, that is exactly my point. Willow tells me you've been different since that fight and even I can tell something is seriously wrong. I'm telling you now, you miss Derek more than you realise."  
"He's in Canada. He's my step-brother, of course I miss my family."

He laughed. "Willow tells me you were coping whilst you were still emailing him. Since that stopped she says you've withdrawn slightly."

"You two talk about me?"

"Do you talk to Willow about me? Of course you do, just as you and I discuss Willow. Don't take it personally."

What he said made sense. I bit my lip. There was a constant pain gnawing at my chest. It had been there since Derek and I stopped talking, and it was getting worse. I was dreaming about our fight now and they weren't pleasant dreams.

I missed him and everyday that I went without speaking to him just made things worse.

"You're particularly bad today." James almost whispered. "Why?"

I closed my eyes.

"It's Derek's birthday."

"Oh…So phone him. Wish him Happy Birthday."

"I can't. He's screening my calls."

"Phone him from here. The number won't show up."

"Do you have any idea how much it costs to phone a cell phone in Canada when you're in England? You can't put that on your bill."

"Do you have any idea how much I don't care? Just fucking do it, Casey before I do it for you."

Swearing was unusual for James.

Defiance flooded across my face. "You have no idea what his number is."  
He straightened. "I don't need to know. I'll just get it from your mobile phone." He fired back.

I raised my eyebrows. "Which is in my pocket. You planning on fighting me for it?"

"Bring it on, babe! I thought training was done for the day but if you're ready to learn another lesson…" his voice trailed off.

We both knew I'd back down.

"Alright. I'll phone him."

"Good. I'll watch while you dial and then I'll go have a shower and leave you in peace."

It wasn't necessary for me to look up Derek's number. I knew it by heart. I checked the time. 12.34pm, which would mean 7.34am in Kingston. It was early but that was probably the only way to catch Derek when he wasn't in the middle of something. There was always the possibility I would catch him _with_ someone but I pushed that thought from my mind.

My hands were shaking as I went into the living room and picked up the receiver and dialled the number prefixing it with the Canadian code. The line connected and I heard a sleepy voice.

"Marti, call back when it's a decent hour please. I can't deal with you singing Happy Birthday when I have a hangover."

Suddenly I was tongue-tied.

"Marti?" he questioned, obviously surprised at the silence.

"Happy Birthday, Derek." I all but whispered.

* * *

At this point, James disappeared, although I suspected he hadn't gone far. If Derek hung up as expected, he knew I would need consoling.

Derek didn't hang up.

I suspected that was only because his hangover was making his reactions slower.

"Well that figures." He finally said. "Only _you_ or Marti would ring me this early. Tell me. Do you lie in bed at night thinking up ways to disrupt _my_ sleep?"

I didn't answer.

He sighed. "Casey…" he was going to say something and I knew there was a high probability it would be derogatory.

I spoke before he could.

"Anyway, I just thought I'd ring and say Happy birthday. I'm afraid you'll have to wait till I'm back in the country for your birthday present I…"  
"…you don't need to bother Casey." He interrupted suddenly, his voice gruff. I stopped rambling.

"…this was all I wanted." He continued softly.

* * *

There was another period of silence. I cleared my throat so that I could speak.

"How are the fingers?" I asked him.

"Come again?" he asked confused.

"No thank you." He snorted at my retort. I explained. "I wondered if the problem with your fingers had cleared up."

I could hear his frown. "What problem with my fingers?"

"The one that made you physically incapable of sending me a single _fucking_ email in months." I don't often swear, but suddenly I was angry with him and the curse just slipped out.

"You told me not to bother."  
"Since when have you listened to me?"

"Good point." He agreed. "Although another good point would be the singular lack of communication from you."  
"I at least tried, Derek. You kept hanging up on me. Besides, I'm calling now."

"Yeah. Can you call later in the day next time? It's too early even for prodigal step-sisters."  
"Der-ek!"

He sniggered. "Case-y!"

I rolled my eyes and sat down on James' sofa.

"Massive hangover, huh?" I said, conversationally to the phone.

Derek groaned. "Like you wouldn't believe." Pause. "Actually, you really wouldn't. Lightweight Casey doesn't do hangovers does she?"

"I've had hangovers, _jerk_. I had one the last time we spoke, remember?"

"That's why you did it? You were drunk!"

I frowned. "Did what?"

"Sleep with James."  
I saw red.

"Derek Venturi! I did not, am not and will not be sleeping with James!"

"You're not?" He sounded surprised, and dare I say it, rather pleased.

"NO!"

He took a deep breath.

"Good."  
"Good? Since when did you get to have an opinion?"

"Since you have the worst possible taste in men."  
_Evidently._ I thought to myself, ignoring what that admission meant.

"Derek. I am _this_ close to hanging up." I warned through my teeth.

His voice softened. "Don't. I got the wrong end of the stick last time then?" He sounded almost reasonable.

I relaxed. "Yes D. You did. Willow slept in my room that night too. We bumped into James at the club and then all three of us crashed in my room. You know, like students do sometimes."

"Oh."

"Yes, idiot! Oh." I picked at a cushion next to me. "You'd like James."

"I know you like him. I've heard all about him from the fam."

I sighed. "I don't like him like that. And even if I did, he isn't interested."

Derek snorted. "Is he dead or gay?"

"Now you're being stupid. No he's not gay. He just doesn't want to date me."  
"Wow! A guy with sense. You're right I do like him."

"You're a moron."

"You're beautiful. And I missed you." His sudden honesty stunned me.

"You're forgiven."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't be so quick if I were you. The pranking hasn't restarted yet."

"You realise you are still paying for that crochet magazine, don't you?"

"Yeah and I'm pissed you haven't sent me anything yet."

"Like what?"

"I don't know…one of those little dinner mat things or something.

"Don't worry." I said, thinking of my earlier conversation with Willow. "I'll get right on it."

When I finally hung up about fifteen minutes later my mind was a whirl. The lump in my chest had gone and I felt unbelievably light. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

Derek was talking to me again. Everything was back to normal.

Almost.

Since when had Derek been so…open to me?

In all other respects he was the same. But there was a change.

I kind of liked it.

* * *

Derek's first effort at pranking arrived a week later.

It was a brown paper parcel addressed to 'Miss Casey McDonald aka Madame Casey'.

Willow was with me when I collected the post.

"Go on. Open it."  
"It's a Derek prank." I stated, recognising the hand-writing.

"I know. I can't wait!" She giggled.

I blew out a breath. "Well at least let's do this in my room. I don't want an audience."  
"You think it will be that bad?"

Cue humourless laughter.

"Oh yeah. He's gone months without pranking me."  
"The pranking equivalent of blue balls? Yeah you're right. Let's go to your room and open it."

I sat on my bed with Willow beside me and tore off the wrapping. Left in my hand was a DVD case, and I was looking at the back. It looked pornographic.

I turned it over.

It _was_ pornographic.

On the front was a picture of a prim, looking female, her hair in a tight bun, a starched white shirt and dark suit. She was standing against a backdrop of an old-fashioned library. She was holding a pile of books under one arm and a whip in the other. Her tight suit skirt was pulled up to reveal stockings, suspenders and a very dangerous pair of red stilettos. Cringing in front of her, in a submissive pose, was a man wearing very little.

Willow gasped and then started to piss herself with laughter.

The "librarian's" face had been photo-shopped with my face and the title of the DVD was: "Casey Does The Classics."

I closed my eyes against the image, and despite myself smiled when I remembered the emails I had exchanged with Derek when I first arrived in London; the ones where he admitted to having fantasies about librarians 'stamping' his card.

I opened my eyes again when James knocked on my door and then entered.

"What are you two laughing about?" He asked. I held out the DVD case for him to see.

"Derek's latest prank."

He took it, laughed and then turned it over. He began to read.

"By day, Casey McDonald is a prim and proper librarian, organising the shelves of the British Library. By night she is 'Madame Casey' the dominatrix from hell who both terrifies and delights.

Watch as she displays her mastery of the Dewey Decimal System – and her clients."

James made it through the blurb without laughing, but only just.

"He has one hell of a sense of humour." James said, finally giving into a belly laugh.

Willow had tears streaming down her face.

"He told me he has fantasies about librarians." I said.

James grinned. "Fantasies of _you_ as a librarian?" He teased.

"Shut up, Brit Git." I snarked.

He chuckled again.

"You do realise there really is a DVD in this, don't you?" He pointed out.

"Urgh! Don't want to see."

James crossed to the TV and DVD. "No. But I do." He smirked.

"James…" I protested.

"Quiet Casey. I want to watch it too." Willow complained.

When the TV was on, we waited for it to pick up the DVD player's signal. Derek had recorded the DVD in the UK format, so it didn't take long to pick it up.

As soon as the 'film' started, I was in tears.

It was a home movie of our family, and by the looks of things, it had been taken the previous week, because I could see Derek's birthday cards hanging in the back ground, and a much bigger Robbie running around. Derek must have followed the family around all weekend filming this. There were scenes of Lizzie playing soccer and Marti at dance class. There was Edwin's latest school prank, Robbie colouring, and even Mom and George making out in the kitchen.

It moved on to the living room and one by one, my family spoke to the camera giving me a message. He had even managed to get George and Edwin to say something. The only person who didn't give a speech was Derek himself.

After the piece from the family, it cut to Queens and a message from Rosie.

And then finally Derek's own room and just Derek.

"I just wanted to say you are a lamebrain, the original Klutzilla and the world's biggest keener. But you are not my step-sister, and you will never be my sister. I miss you."

And that was it…apart from the montage which followed. A montage of a hundred or so pictures of me in chronological order from the first time we met, to the last photograph I had taken – with Derek standing beside the Prince as we were about to leave for the airport. He had his arm around me, because George had insisted he hug me for the picture.

But it didn't look forced, and when I thought back I remembered the sensation of him rubbing my shoulder discreetly with his thumb.

It stayed on that picture for a moment and then faded to black.

A squiggly, "Fin" ended the DVD.

In my room in London, England there was silence.

Willow let out a breath.

"Casey darling. That guy's trying to tell you something."


	13. The View From Planet Derek

"You are fucking unbelievable, Venturi!"

I smirked and leant against the bar.

"What can I say? When you got it, you got it."

Tom snorted. "Oh you got it alright. She's handing it to you on a plate." He motioned towards a girl standing the other side of the bar. She was tall, blonde and shapely, just like the girls in high school had been. Her little dress was tight and minimal, and even across the room like this I could tell she wasn't wearing any panties.

I could also tell she wanted me, but it would be egotistical of me to think it was for my dazzling charm and good looks. It would also be inaccurate. She wanted me because I was popular and played on the hockey team. I didn't delude myself.

"What are you waiting for?" Tom asked "Wouldn't it be nice to wake up to a face full of _that _on your birthday?"

We were out celebrating my birthday early because Tom had to go somewhere tomorrow. "You haven't had any for a long while, D."

Wincing, I took a sip of my beer. "You ever think that might be through a matter of choice, T?" I said after I had swallowed the mouthful of alcohol.

My friend scoffed. "Who are you saving yourself for? Casey?"

He said it to wind me up. It hadn't occurred to him that he might be nearer the mark than he thought. I might not currently be talking to her, but I wasn't about to screw even the remote possibility of having something with her by indulging in a revenge-fuck with a girl who looked like she could eat the whole squad in one sitting – and probably had.

I played it cool.

"Nah. Your mother." I responded to Tom's Casey-dig. "She said she wanted Italian charm."

"You aren't Italian."

I grinned. "She doesn't know that."  
"You know I should knock your teeth to the back of your throat for even joking about shit like that."

"Go ahead. And I'll return the favour for every time you make salacious comments about _my_ family."  
Tom frowned. "I've never said anything about your mother…or your step-mom, although Nora is definitely do-able." Then the confusion cleared. "Oh! We _are_ talking about Casey! Yes well, not only does she look more than do-able, if you don't get your head out of your arse when she gets home next year, I will test out that theory."  
A red mist blew across my eyes.

"Just fucking try, ass-wad."

He grinned. "Jesus, how the mighty fall…Derek Venturi and puppy love."

"Fuck off!"

* * *

I woke up the next morning with a mouth like a desert, a head that felt as though it had swollen to epic proportions and my cell phone ringing a cheery little number that I couldn't for the life of me remember why I had chosen. I didn't even look at the screen when I answered it because my clock said it was too early for anyone except Marti to phone me.

Marti…or Casey.

What was it about the two most important women in my life that neither of them get my need to lie in bed till late morning?

I guessed it was Marti.

I was wrong. It was Casey.

The hangover disappeared instantly, and my whole body perked up. Okay, some parts perked up more than others. I stretched back on my bed enjoying the sound of her voice. Best Birthday Present Ever.

"Well that figures." I finally said. "Only _you_ or Marti would ring me this early. Tell me. Do you lie in bed at night thinking up ways to disrupt _my_ sleep?"

She didn't answer.

I sighed. "Casey…" I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to say next; something characteristically annoying, or ridiculously soppy?

She spoke before I could decide. Listening to her speak was like putting after-sun on burnt skin. She talked away the irritation I had left after so many weeks of no communication.

"Anyway, I just thought I'd ring and say Happy birthday. I'm afraid you'll have to wait till I'm back in the country for your birthday present I…"  
"…you don't need to bother Casey." I interrupted suddenly, my voice was off and I seriously needed to take a breath. Casey was rambling as usual, but when I spoke, she stopped.

"…this was all I wanted." I continued softly.

_Hell D. Since when did you grow tits and a vag? _ My inner self was not impressed.

* * *

There was another period of silence. How exactly was Casey going to react to my admission that I had wanted her to call? Would she do the girly gushing of Cheerleader Casey or the righteous indignation of the real Casey?

"How are the fingers?" she asked me.

"Come again?" I was genuinely confused.

"No thank you." I snorted at her retort. She had spent far too much time with Rosie. It was weird to hear such a blatantly sexual innuendo from Casey McDonald. Before I could say anything more, she went on to outline her grievance.

"I wondered if the problem with your fingers had cleared up."

"What problem with my fingers?"

"The one that made you physically incapable of sending me a single _fucking_ email in months." Sorry, did Casey McDonald just fucking swear?!

"You told me not to bother." It was all I could manage.  
"Since when have you listened to me?"

"Good point." A very good point. I should have bombarded her with emails and phone calls. I should have irritated her to the point where she was seriously considering getting on a plane home so that she could have it out with me.

I was dragged from my contemplation of how a meeting like that might have gone by the need to respond.

"Although another good point would be the singular lack of communication from you."  
"I at least tried, Derek. You kept hanging up on me. Besides, I'm calling now."

I needed to get this back on track. It needed to switch back to the banter conversational format we were used to. I was in dangerous territory and I had no clue whether _she_ cared about _me_ or not.

"Yeah. Can you call later in the day next time? It's too early even for prodigal step-sisters."  
"Der-ek!"

God! I missed that sound.

I sniggered. "Case-y!" There was a shuffling noise as she moved, and I wondered if she was getting ready to hang up.

"Massive hangover, huh?" Casey said, conversationally to the phone. Not leaving, just making herself comfortable.

And with her words, the headache came crashing back. I groaned. "Like you wouldn't believe." Pause. "Actually, you really wouldn't. Lightweight Casey doesn't do hangovers does she?"

I miss our little fights.

"I've had hangovers, _jerk_. I had one the last time we spoke, remember?"

"That's why you did it? You were drunk!" I spoke before I thought. _Idiot!_

"Did what?"

"Sleep with James."  
She saw red.

"Derek Venturi! I did not, am not and will not be sleeping with James!" Alleluia! Thank Christ for miracles like that!

"You're not?" Message to self: Try to work on sounding _dis_-interested. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen.

"NO!" Casey shouted in frustration.

I took a deep breath.

"Good."  
"Good? Since when did you get to have an opinion?" She had a point there. _Since I realised you really aren't my sister and no amount of sibling bonding was going to change that fact._

"Since you have the worst possible taste in men." An equally valid point.  
"Derek. I am _this_ close to hanging up." She warned through gritted teeth. I believed her, and I wasn't ready to let her go.

"Don't. I got the wrong end of the stick last time then?" I was repentant. Honestly.

"Yes D. You did. Willow slept in my room that night too. We bumped into James at the club and then all three of us crashed in my room. You know, like students do sometimes."

Personally, I didn't do that very often. If I stayed overnight in a girl's room it was because a) I wanted to sleep with her, b) My shy (ha ha) best friend wanted to sleep with her c) Someone had locked me out of my room.

I was aware, however, that students did hold impromptu sleep-overs. I just never figured Casey for a host.

"Oh."

She started on about James.

James. Hmmm. I had heard a _lot_ about James. Nora believed that Casey and James were on a collision course for true love. I think my step-mom had visions of a wedding in Windsor and tea with the queen. I caught Casey's 'he's not interested' comment, and wondered if the guy was for real…or just gay.

"Is he dead or gay?" _Shit! I said that aloud._

"Now you're being stupid. No he's not gay. He just doesn't want to date me."  
"Wow! A guy with sense. You're right I do like him."

_So long as he isn't after you, whatever his motivation, he's my new best friend. Soz, Tom!_

"You're a moron." Original, Casey.

"You're beautiful. And I missed you." Where the _fuck_ did that come from?

"You're forgiven."

Her voice was amused, soft, melodic and a total turn on.

I chuckled. "I wouldn't be so quick if I were you. The pranking hasn't restarted yet."

_Yes Derek, Get this back on familiar ground, QUICK!_

"You realise you are still paying for that crochet magazine, don't you?"

"Yeah and I'm pissed you haven't sent me anything yet."

"Like what?"

"I don't know…one of those little dinner mat things or something.

"Don't worry. I'll get right on it."

"I just don't want one of those toilet roll doll things."

"Never crossed my mind."

"Good."

There was a little pause before I continued.

"Dad tells me you aren't coming home for Christmas." Don't let the disappointment show.

"The plane ticket and everything would wipe out the small wage I make at my part time job. And Willow has invited me to spend Christmas in Yorkshire with her family. Plus, Rosie is going home to Ireland for Christmas and New Year and she's invited me to join her for New Year."

"Wow!" I was quite impressed actually. An Irish New Year sounded like fun, and very alcoholic.

"Yes. She's been very generous actually and invited Willow and James along too. It's not a huge journey. We're going to drive across to Liverpool and then down to get the ferry."  
"Rosie and Willow in the same room…"

She laughed. "Yes. It is a daunting prospect. I'm hoping that James will help with crowd control."  
I was quiet for a moment. "You really like him?" I asked cautiously.

"D. It's okay." She murmured.

I rallied. "Did I say otherwise?"

"How come you are allowed to have as many female friends as you like, but when I have one male friend…"  
"…Casey. Stop. Okay. No female friends."

"Seriously?"  
"Women are too much effort. I'm taking a break."  
She laughed. "And men?"

"Fuck off!"

Casey giggled.

"Anyway, getting back on topic. I've got a backlog of pranks and I'm not afraid to use them."

"Two can play at that game, buster."

"Bring it on, princess!"

* * *

My first prank took a lot of forethought.

I was proud of it, but it also scared the shit out of me. The postal service said it would take 7-10 days to reach her. It was almost the longest week of my life.


	14. Scrabble

I waited until that night before I emailed Derek. It was a calculated move on my part. James had agreed to accompany Willow to some Post-grad ball thing, and I was staying home. My response to Derek's DVD prank was not something I wanted to share.

Willow looked fantastic! She had height and good looks on her side, and she was only half a head shorter than James, despite his tall stature so they were an attractive couple. Sometimes having a platonic male friend is a real god-send.

Neither of them wanted to leave me. I wasn't exactly sure why they were so concerned. Willow told me I had been pale ever since I had seen the DVD.

I put it down to seeing how much the family had changed since I was last home.

Willow put it down to the whole DVD – and Derek's words.

I thought she was being ridiculous. He hadn't said anything on tape that he hadn't said before.

Alright so maybe he hadn't put all of those words into that order before, and maybe when he had spoken them in the past there had been more sarcasm and derision. And maybe if you squinted long and hard enough you could see warmth in his eyes and hear affection in his voice.

James and Willow scoffed when I admitted that so reluctantly. James had chuckled softly and muttered something about 'Tom and Jerry' again. I bit my lip and tried to ignore them, because despite Derek's words and their tone, I was his step-sister. I am his step-sister. I will always be his step-sister. And that little toddler on the screen was a brother to both of us.

I explained that and they were quiet.

Later, they both found time to take me to one side and make it clear they were there if I needed to talk. I appreciated the thought, but as I pointed out to them. I know Derek and I know how to handle him…even if the sentiment behind his latest prank was a little unnerving.

Eventually, James, in his black tux, and Willow, in her red floor length silk gown left, and it appeared that most of the Halls had gone out, because everything became eerily quiet. I was glad I had eaten and had my own bathroom. It meant I could shut myself away in my room with my laptop, and compose my response in peace.

I spent three hours trying. I tried sarcasm, irritation, calm reflection. I tried warmth, coldness and wit. I even tried poetry.

I deleted each email without sending it, my mind confused and I needed to get my mind straight again, because this was ridiculous. I was reading far too much into the DVD and Willow's interpretation of it. I _knew_ Derek and she didn't. He didn't mean it the way she thought he did.

But, just in case there was even a hint of truth in her theory, I couldn't shoot his gift down.

In the end, I sent the following:

"_D._

_Thank you. _

_Love Casey X"_

What a cop-out!

"_Sarcasm, Case?"_ came the immediate reply. How does he do that?

"_No. Pornography aside, the DVD was lovely." _I typed back. _"I meant it."_

"_So did I."_ His response made my cheeks heat up and my heart race.

"_Willow almost peed her pants at the DVD case."_

"_*grins* You had an audience when you opened it? Priceless! I don't suppose they took a picture of your face, did they? How badly did you want to whoop my ass?"_

"_Derek Venturi. I am not going to be a party to another of your sick and twisted fantasies. (James told me to tell you he's impressed with the photo-editing skills. He wants to know about your editing package.)"_

"_he he. Are you sure he isn't gay?"_

"_Der-ek!"_

"_I'll email you the details tomorrow. What are you doing tonight?"  
"All alone in my room. James is 'escorting' Willow to some ball. He lost a bet with her about how many shots she could down. The forfeit was he had to wear a tux and be her 'date'."_

"_I got a quiet afternoon and evening too. Tom's got a new squeeze so they are at it like bunnies and the rest of the guys have exams next week. I am glad I picked courses with so few exams. You want a good beating at Scrabble?"_

"_I'm the keener. I'll wipe the floor with you."_

We loaded up the Scrabble website and picked virtual tiles to decide who went first. This particular website had a chat function so we could keep talking in real time. Aside from the fact I couldn't hear his voice, it was like sitting across the board from him.

Playing Scrabble with Derek was a challenge. He had a singular approach to the game, I remembered from home. He appeared to have memorised all the rude words which were valid, and based his entire game play on getting as many of them on the board as he could – just to see my reaction. Over the years, I had developed a Derek-Scrabble strategy of my own. I too learnt all the rude words, and all of the ways to change them into less offensive words.

It gave the game a whole new dimension.

We had been playing for a while before we started talking again.

"_Robbie's grown."_ I typed.

"_Yeah. Nora says he's already causing trouble at his play sessions. He wants to play with the girls rather than the boys."_

"_Why doesn't that surprise me?"_

"_he he. He's a Venturi."  
"What went wrong with Ed?"_

"_A little too much of my mom, I think. Although he's trying hard on the pranking side. But he gets caught a little too often."  
"Trust you to critique his performance."_

"_What does he expect? He should have learnt from the master."_

"_I'm sure George is happy he isn't following in his dad's footsteps."_

"_I wasn't talking about Dad and you know it."_

"_*grins*."_ The PC bleeped and I looked at his latest word. _'CUM'_

"_Der-ek!"_

"_What? It's valid."_

"_Hmm. It always is with you. Valid and disgusting." _

"_For godssake, princess! Stop being a prude. It's not disgusting it's natural and fun. As you would know if you just let loose once in a while."_

Yeah right. The last time you thought I'd 'let loose' you went off on one at me,

"_Can we just play Scrabble please?"_ I asked.

"_I thought we were. What'd'ya think we were doing?"_

Flirting?

My cheeks were red from the conversation. I took a deep breath and frowned in concentration and then smiled, adding an I and then an N. 'CUMIN'. On a triple word score as well. _"24. I think."_

"_Keener."  
"Pervert."_

* * *

"_How's Kingston?"_ I asked, blocking his obvious attempt to make 'WHORE' with a vertical 'BIBLE', gaining points for 'BORE' in the process.

"_BIBLE BORE. Casey? I didn't have you down as the type."_

Then: _"Kingston is fine. Quiet."_

"_Quiet? It must be if you are staying in on a Friday night. No groupies?"_

"_Not interested."  
"Oh. Why not? The only time you're not interested is when you actually have a girlfriend. Who is the unlucky girl?"  
"I'm just not interested. No girlfriend. Now can we just drop it?"  
"Someone sounds uncomfortable…"_ Not as uncomfortable as I felt. Now I _knew_ that Willow had been barking up the wrong tree. This had all the hallmarks of Sally.

"_You're not after Sally again are you?"_

"_Don't be stupid. She's engaged."_

"_Someone else then…"_ My eyes widened. _"Someone who is playing hard to get…am I right?"_ Despite my fear that I was right, I had to ask.

"_Casey…"_ He definitely sounded uncomfortable.

"_You can talk to me about it, D. You did with Sally and I helped."_

"_Yeah…well you can't help this time."_

"_I was right!"_

Why…why did I sound so freaking happy about it?

"_I've had enough of this. I'm going now."_ He logged off.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds and then a strange fear gripped me. If I didn't do something quick we could end up in the middle of another 'let's ignore each other phase'. I couldn't face that again.

Despite the cost, I picked up my cell and dialled his number.

He rejected the call.

I texted him.

"_Not calling 2 offer advice. Just 2 say sorry."_

Nothing.

So I called again.

This time, he answered.

"_I am sorry."_ I started.

"_I know."_ His voice was unexpectedly soft. _"It's okay."_

"_I thought you were going to stop talking to me again."_

"_I considered it."  
"Don't…please!" _Okay. I might have sounded a bit desperate then.

Derek chuckled softly in my ear and it sent a shiver down my spine. _"Beg, much."_

"_I'd never beg for anything from you."  
"Never say never, Case."_ I closed my eyes and reminded myself he was hung up on someone else and that I was just imagining the flirtatious hint in his voice.

I couldn't speak.

"_This is going to be an expensive silence. Shout at me or something."_ He mocked.

"_Funnily enough, I can't think of anything to shout about."_

"_Not even the fact I super-imposed your face onto the head of a porn actress?"  
"And then sent me a very touching video of our family who I happen to be missing very much. You're forgiven."_

"_That's twice now."  
"What's twice now?"  
"Twice you've told me over the phone that you forgive me."_ He laughed. _"I'm going to have to try harder to piss you off."_

"_Derek…don't…can't we just be friends without all the drama."_

"_No. I don't think we can. It's just the way we are. It doesn't mean anything."_

"_Thanks!" _I said sarcastically.

"_Come on, Casey. Admit it. You missed this." _He stopped. _"You missed me."  
_His voice was so quiet at the end I could hardly hear him.

"_Some victory, Derek. I already told you that."_  
_"I wasn't after victory. And I said it first."_

My head hurt. I coughed to clear my throat which seemed to have closed itself.

"_How much does it cost to phone a Canadian cell-phone from London anyway?" _I asked.

"_Too fucking much._ _You'd better go. George will be having kittens when he sees the bill."  
"I think, should that happen, it would be more about the fact that I phoned you than that we were on the phone for too long."_

Derek laughed. _"'Case-y don't you think that you and Derek argue enough when you are in the same room without arguing across the Atlantic?'"_

I had to give it to him, Derek did a mean impression of his father.

_"You're right. I should go."  
"Case?"_

_"Yeah?"  
"Try and curb your Klutzilla tendencies, okay?"_

_"If you try and curb your man-whore ones."  
"I told you. No girlfriend. No groupies."  
"I hope she's worth it."_

He paused. "_Like you wouldn't believe!"_

* * *

That wasn't the last time I spoke to him on the phone or played Scrabble. Before long we were back in our twice-daily emails, and once a week one or other of us would provoke an argument bad enough that the other ended up phoning to apologise.

Screwed up? Yeah.

Would I give it up?

No Way.


	15. God's Own Country

"For fuck's sake, James Morgan will you slow down! I'd like to live to see my mother, please."

James laughed. "Trust me, Willow. I've been driving for nearly eight years and I haven't had an accident yet."  
"Miracles will never cease to amaze me Jay, but I don't want to be here when your luck fails you."

I sat in the back, smiling. It had taken me a while to realise that Willow and James saw each other as brother and sister rather than just friends. They had the sort of relationship that I was supposed to have with Derek but didn't. Oh they argued like us, but there wasn't the spark. I glanced out of the window of the car, smiling as I thought about my step-brother. My seatbelt was securely fastened. Willow wasn't kidding about James' speed.

The three of us were driving up the M1 motorway towards Yorkshire. In three days time it would be Christmas and we were all spending it up North. Willow hadn't been home in a while, so she was itching to see her mom and her dog. James had been home a few weeks ago, but even he was looking forward to seeing Mel, Simon and Anna. No one mentioned Lucy.

We had been fortunate with the weather. It was cold, and crisp but the sun was shining, and having spent the whole of my time in England so far stuck in London, I was looking forward to seeing some more of my new, albeit temporary home.

I asked how long it would take and Willow had said it normally took her three and a half hours, but at the rate James was driving it would either take us under an hour or we wouldn't arrive at all.

Jay took the hint and lifted his foot off the gas.

It was a comfortable journey. I had long suspected that neither of my friends was short of money, but the sight of James' brand new BMW was still a shock. I hadn't even known he had a car in London, but apparently his apartment came with a little mews garage around the corner, and this sleek silver beast lived there.

At first, the journey was a mass of suburbs, busy with cars, black taxis and buses. We followed the A1, a road which Willow explained used to be known as the Great North Road in times when highwayman roamed its long length. It stretched from the city northwards, brushing the edge of Leeds two hundred plus miles to the north and much, much further beyond. It pretty much followed the same route that it had for centuries, though of course, it had been upgraded time and time again.

"Are we taking this road all the way then?" I asked.

"And deal with all the caravans and lorries, like hell we are!" James commented from the driver's seat.

Willow rolled her eyes. "No. There's an alternative road which follows a similar route. It's a proper motorway with service areas. Of course, it's less scenic, but James is right, the A1 is predominantly dual carriageway. If you get stuck behind a lorry overtaking a caravan or something, it really slows you down."  
When the A1 road met the bigger, busier M25, James turned left and followed the new motorway until it in turn met the M1.

Or he would have done, if we hadn't immediately hit roadworks and a long traffic jam.

"Effing bloody car park." He fumed, sounding very British. He glanced at me and saw my amusement. "Sorry. This road goes all the way round London in a massive circle, and it is a pain in the…neck. Fortunately, we won't be on it for long. Then hopefully, the M1 will get quieter and quieter as we go up the country."

I nodded. Thoroughly confused, until Willow, sparing me, handed me a map so that I could see where I was on this tiny island. I spent some time watching the names of the places we passed along, they were so…descriptive: names like 'Ickleford', 'Millbrook'; amusing names like: 'Husbands Bosworth' and 'Gotham' – although I was told that it was pronounced differently, and the only bats were the ones in the belfry.

After a while, I spotted names I recognised like Leicester and Nottingham (apparently there is still a Sheriff). Willow filled me in on some of the history, telling me that England used to be covered in forests, of which Sherwood Forest had only been a small part. The 'Sheriff' was so called because his/her name was a corruption of the term 'Shire Reeve' or 'person in charge of the shire/county'. She told me about the industries which had made Nottingham grow (coal and lace) and then shortly after we left Nottinghamshire, she announced that we had reached South Yorkshire and proceeded to tell me all about Sheffield, a place famous for its steel and cutlery.

The facts she told me floated around in my head and I was sure I wouldn't remember them, but all the same I wanted to know. I wanted to learn more about this country. The contrast with the city of London was astounding.

Three hours after we left London, we entered West Yorkshire and very quickly the city of Leeds.

* * *

"Willow! Darling!" A tiny woman of about fifty with naturally blonde hair came running from the house as soon as we got out of the car.

"Hi Mum!" My friend threw herself at the petite figure and I turned away to give them privacy and examine my surroundings.

I was in awe!

Firstly, because Willow had neglected to tell me she lived in a house that looked like it had dropped out of a Jane Austen set: yellow-grey Yorkshire stone, flat-fronted with large windows and climbing roses around the door. She had just called it The Rectory when we had talked about it in the past.

And secondly, I was in awe because the Yorkshire countryside was like nothing I had ever seen.

I loved it.

We had driven for almost another hour after we passed Leeds, the roads narrowing as we ventured north into the Yorkshire Dales. Flat fields gave way to rolling hills carpeted, even in the winter, in green speckled with woolly sheep.

It was the rocks that made it unique, however.

As the car crested rises on the road, I would look down into dips in the fields and see tiny rocky waterfalls, gushing with winter rain, and each field was bordered with boundary walls wide and un-mortared, looking haphazard. I had commented on that to my companions and James had smiled. "Some of those walls are more than four hundred years old." He had said.

Willow's home was set down a country lane, and nestled into the side of the hill. The views from the windows must be fantastic because the view from the front yard was good.

James came to stand at my side.

"God's Own Country." He said quietly and with pride.

"It's…wow!"

He smiled. "Yes. It is."

"And this house…" I let my voice trail away.

"It used to be the rectory for the estate." He explained. "The vicar and his family used to live here."  
I frowned. "Where do you live?"

"About ten minutes by car further on. Or five minutes walk across the fields." He pointed and in the distance I could see a house. Even from here I could see that it was big.

"It's big."  
He shrugged. "It was the manor house when this was still an estate."

"That's your home?"

He shrugged. "Not really. It's where I was born and where I spend Christmas, but I don't come here often enough for it to be home anymore. Mel spends weekends here, but he also has a flat in Leeds. Just lately, I've stayed there when I've come back to Yorkshire. Anyway, you'll see my house tonight. Mel's invited Willow's family and you to dinner. Wear strong shoes, Willow normally walks across the fields."

"Are you going now?"

He nodded and planted a kiss on my cheek. "I'll just say hello to Margaret."

And with that, Willow and her mom came over to us.

* * *

"Dear Derek,

Were you serious when you said you wanted me to tell you what Yorkshire was like? Only it seemed like you were and…oh what the hell! If you weren't you can always delete this email.

There's no cell coverage here, so you will have to refrain from p-ing me off this week or it could mean permanent severing of ties. Although, just to be on the safe side, I've emailed Mom and George with my landline number for while I'm here. Surely, you and I can go a week of emailing without a fight?

I've realised now that Willow was _not_ exaggerating when she praised her home county. It is impressive. It may be because I have had it sprung on me in a kind of blind-folded surprise, but I think not. I've come from the city, driven through a corridor that is the industrial heartland of England, to a second city smaller yet no less vibrant than London. It would be easy to think it was the shock of suddenly being in open wilderness that has me in awe.

But whilst it might be wilderness, it isn't barren. It is full of sights so beautiful, you can't describe them, draw them or photograph, you can only experience them. It's like taking a deep breath when you've been under water for such a long time.

I wish my father had seen this.

I wish all of my family could see this.

I wish you could see this. I know the countryside isn't your favourite place to be, but Derek, you should see the rocks here; big daunting crags, so dominating in the landscapes that they hang like portents of doom.

They all have coloured ropes hanging from them, so I know people use them for climbing. You'd love climbing on them, I'm sure. I know Canada has bigger, and I'm not saying these are better, but this new land is a real surprise.

Willow's family are nice and her dog is just plain mad. She dived into the bag of presents I had bought and we had to yank her out before she unwrapped them all. I think she smelled the massive doggie treat I bought her. They have given me a little attic bedroom that is straight out of a novel, and has the best view. The door has a little wrought iron lift-latch that clunks when I open it. I've never stayed anywhere like this before.

Their house is decorated for Christmas with a massive tree in the foyer and a raging fire in the living room. The decorations are old-fashioned, but in a good way. It looks like a Christmas card.

It's exciting that it will be Christmas in three days time, but it's weird and slightly painful that I won't be at home.

Tonight we are going over to James house for dinner. Apparently, the best way to get there is to walk across the fields. In the dark.

I know what you are thinking. It is asking for a Klutzilla moment, isn't it? I promise I'll try and stay upright.

Are you home yet? The drive up here was slightly shorter than your drive home. Email me if you are home and let me know you are home safe.

I had better go, Willow is expecting me downstairs in a minute and I need to look out my boots.

TC,

Casey XXXX."

* * *

"Dear worry-wart,

Yes. I'm home. I texted you a couple of hours ago, but evidently you didn't get it because of the signal.

I'm used to you ranting and raving so feel free to send me long emails about the colour of the freaking daffodils. Can't guarantee I'll read it.

Not arguing with you for a week might be difficult. How about instead of not talking to each other we send each other photographs of vegetables?

(Before you start photographing your ass-paragus or your melons - that was a joke).

Enjoy trudging across a dark field. Don't fall over a sheep.

DX.

P.S.

Where's your copy of 'Hard Candy'? I can't find it in your room.

P.P.S The family miss you too. I'm enjoying the rest from the earache.

P.P.P.S. M.Y."

* * *

Final email of the evening:

"Der-ek! What the hell are you doing in my room???????

I've got my copy of Hard Candy, I work out to it. What did you want it for? You hate Madonna. Buy your own.

Daffodils come out in Spring dum-ass! And Melons are fruit not vegetables.

Hang on…what do you mean ass…and melons...Der-ek!

P.S. I miss them too. What earache?

P.P.S. Good."


	16. Cornered

"Beer?" Dad asked me.

I raised an eyebrow. I had been 'legal' for years but this was the first time he had offered me a beer in our home. Needless to say, Edwin, Lizzie and the younger kids were in bed. I tried not to think about the only other off-spring in this family who was old enough to drink. She wasn't here, and I spent too long with my mind on her as it was.

"Do you seriously expect me to say no?" I smirked, accepting the bottle from him. Nora rolled her eyes, but I noticed he had already furnished her with a glass of red wine.

"Merry Christmas!" Dad raised his glass.

"Shouldn't that be Merry Derekus?" My step-mother piped up, a smirk of her own on her face. We all chuckled.

"Merry Derekus!" I agreed.

It was two days until Christmas Eve, but it didn't feel like it. Last year had been a bad Christmas because it was the McDonalds' first Christmas since Dennis' death and it was all so raw. This year, Dad and Nora wanted to be more positive, so they were making an extra effort. When Casey announced she wasn't coming home for the holiday season, it hit all of us. Not that the rest of the family begrudged her the opportunity to spend Christmas in England. But that didn't mean that they wouldn't miss her.

I did though. She should be home with her mother and her sister for the first sane Christmas in two years.

She should be home with me.

"Have you heard from Casey?" Dad asked and at first I thought it was me he was asking and I wanted to know how he knew that I was corresponding with her. But when I looked up, he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at his wife, my step-mother, Casey's mom.

"She emailed this morning to say she had had a fantastic night at James' last night. You should read it George. Apparently, Mel has a fantastic housekeeper who cooks like someone called Delia Smith. I think she's a famous television cook over there. They had a seven-bird roast. They took a quail and stuffed it into a partridge, then stuffed the partridge into a pheasant, pheasant into a chicken, chicken into a duck, duck into a goose and goose into a turkey. Then they roasted the turkey. Casey said Mel was a bit embarrassed by the extravagance of it but that some of the people who attended the meal pay a large amount of money to charity for the pleasure of the cook's Christmas roast."

Nora talked about James and his family as if she had met them and even though I couldn't blame her, because Casey talked about them in her emails ALL the time, I was rapidly going off the British. It had nothing to do with colonial history.

Casey had told me about the roast in her email to me. She had also waxed lyrical about James' home and whilst she told me there was nothing going on between them, I still found it hard to like the guy. He flashed his money around a bit too much for me.

And I knew that Nora was itching for Casey to marry well.

Marry well…so no step-brothers then.

Not that I…well… you get the idea.

"James sounds like a nice guy." My father said. "He's certainly been good to Casey."

"Oh Please!" I said. "He's taken her out to dinner, made a fuss of her, yeah, but you know what that says to me?" I knew my logic was flawless. "He's trying to get in her pants."

"Der-ek!" Dad reprimanded, but he managed to sound like Casey and that made me smile confidently.

Nora looked uncomfortable. "I'm sure that's not the case, but anyway, Casey is a big girl." She looked at dad and shrugged. "We've had the "Don't throw it away talk.""

I had raised my bottle for a swig of beer and when I heard that I choked.

"You've what?"

"Casey and I have had The Talk."

"What talk?" Poor Dad. They don't call him 'clueless' for nothing.

Even Nora looked exasperated.

"The one about waiting to have sex."

Dad and I looked at each other, knowing full well that no girl is ever honest with her mother about sex.

"Nora. You seriously think that Casey is still a virgin?" Dad looked uncomfortable as he spoke. I felt uncomfortable that they were having this conversation in front of me. "She's had three boyfriends in high school: three _long term_ boyfriends."

I hated the implication in my father's words, because I actually couldn't fault_ his_ logic.

"Georgie. I spoke to Casey before she left and she reassured me. She is still a virgin."

"Dad. Nora. Stop. You do realise you are making my ears _bleed_ right now, don't you?"

My ears bleed and my mind contemplate things (my heart and) I really didn't want to think about. And I could almost hear my beautiful step-sister complain about my double standards.

Yeah.

How could I expect her to be a virgin, when I most definitely wasn't?

The subject matter shifted to Kingston and my own situation. My mind reminded me that not so long ago I would have hated the spotlight being on me. Now I was just grateful not to know more about Casey's sex life.

"So…Derek. Anymore info on the tour?" Dad started.

I groaned. Yeah, I was happy to talk about anything…unless we were going to start on _that_ topic.

"Do you know where the tour is going to be yet?" He asked excitedly.

Every year around about February, the main hockey teams at Queens took a tour to promote Canadian ice hockey. Sometimes it was local to Canada and the States. Sometimes it was further afield.

And yeah…I knew where the tour was going. I was just reluctant to tell my father.

"Hmm." I muttered.

"And?" He asked, pointedly.

Oh fuck.

"London."

"London? Ontario?" He asked.

I sighed.

"No. London, England."

* * *

My ears were still ringing from Nora's uncharacteristic squeal.

"You're going to London?!" She looked excited.

I shrugged. "If I decide to go."  
"What do you mean, 'if I decide to go'?" Dad frowned.

"I'm not sure that I want to take the time out from my studies."  
Dad's jaw dropped. He and Nora started to laugh.

"Ha ha ha ha. Nice one Derek." My genetic parent said.

Nora took it further. "Don't be silly Derek. Why wouldn't you go?"  
_Hmm…let me see. Because you'll find some reason for me to look Casey up while I'm there and I don't want to see her…?_

Okay, it might seem an extreme reaction on my part, giving up an all-expenses-paid trip to one of the most interesting cities on the planet. But put yourself in my shoes. You've just spent the best part of the last six months flirting over the internet with your own step-sister and now you are unexpectedly confronted with the possibility that you will have to see her face-to-face – four months earlier than expected.

"I'm not sure that I can spare the time." It was a lame excuse and I knew it.

Nora was looking thoughtful. "I wonder if there will be room for you to take all of Casey's Christmas presents?"

"Nora…" I warned. Dad slapped his hand on my shoulder.

"Son. Opportunities like this don't come along very often. Why don't you get the coach to talk to your other lecturers? Or I could, if you'd like me to."

"…she needs a new coat. Maybe you could take her shopping for one while you're there…" Nora muttered to herself.

I drank my beer and looked from one to the other in horror. They would talk me into it, the way they did every other time they needed me to do something for Casey.

I sighed. "If I go. You don't tell Casey okay? I don't want a reception committee, and I'm not sure that I'll even get chance to see her. My days will be full of training and exhibition games."

Nora looked disappointed but Dad got the message.

"No you're right. No use in getting her hopes up."

What????

* * *

"So let me get this straight." Tom sniggered down the phone. "Not only are your parents _pleased_ you are going to London on this tour, but they also _want_ you to hook up with Casey while you are there."

I winced audibly. "Tom. Can you please avoid phrases that involve me, Casey and the words 'hook up'?"

He laughed. "You know if you decide not to go there are plenty of junior players who would gladly take your place on the trip?"

"Nah. The parentals know now. I have to go or I'll never hear the last of it. I'll go and tell them I didn't get chance to "pop" in to see her."

"And what if she "pops" in to see you"

"She won't know I'm there. I've sworn them to secrecy and I've told them not to tell Marti or Ed."

"You know when you two finally get your fucking act together and screw each other's brains out, I'm going to miss our little vagina dialogues."

"Screw you, Thomas."

* * *

I emailed the coach and told him I would take my place on the tour. He sounded relieved and emailed me back an itinerary. I glanced over it as I lay on my bed the afternoon before Christmas Eve.

We would be staying in university accommodation in the centre of London for ten days. Our days would consist of training practices first thing, the occasional press conference during the morning, a couple of official lunches and then exhibition games in the afternoon or evening. Looking at the plan, we had been given free time almost every single day, "to see the sights".

It looked like going to see Casey was something I would be unable to avoid.

There was a map of where the accommodation was in London, and when I compared it to Casey's own address, I saw to my relief that she was some distance away at a different university. Hopefully, I would be able to restrict the required visit to one short occurrence.

As I was exploring the map and other information, a beep told me there was a new email in my Inbox. I _Alt-tab'd_ to reach it and found it was from Casey.

"_I can't believe I am in England rather than at home. I miss everyone."_

Somehow, cold and impersonal though the black characters on the white screen were, I was convinced they were tear-soaked. Casey tears.

I sighed.

Time to step up to the mark again.

Be the big brother I wasn't.

I logged into our usual chat room and ping'd her. She joined me immediately.

"Are you okay?

"Yeah. Just…when everyone has gone to bed and I'm alone in my room, I think of home and all of you."

"All of me???? Okay. Which bit do you like the best? My awesome bod or my rugged good looks? Or maybe something a little more R-rated?"

"Der-ek!"

I emoted 'laughs hysterically' and she emoted her sticking out her tongue.

"You're a pig." She commented.

"I think you've said that before."

"Why can't you be normal?"

"After you, princess…"

"Why do I even bother talking to you?"

"A better question would be why do _I_ even bother talking to _you_?"

"No one's forcing you Derek."

"Likewise, _Babe_."

"Pthththt!"

"What was that?"  
"Me blowing a raspberry."

I shook my head, grinning at her insanity.

"Well pthhththt back."

"Mature, Derek."

"You started it."

And we continued on like that until she had forgotten why she emailed me in the first place.


	17. The First Surprise

"You must be Casey!" A male voice announced behind me, causing me to whirl in surprise. I looked up into familiar green eyes, but these were in the face of an older man, although the stature was the same, and so was the twinkle when he smiled.

He had close cropped, grey hair and a short beard, and though I knew he had to be in his mid sixties, he looked about fifty and very fit. I could see his body was toned, even through his clothes.

He looked ageless, and strangely mercurial, and by that latter comment I mean the quick-witted, sprightly definition rather than 'erratic'. There was something about him that drew you in, and also something about him that warned you off. He reminded me of someone and I knew it would bug me until I worked it out.

"Yes, this is Casey." James appeared at my side. "Casey, this is my grandfather, Mel."

His grandfather, of course he would be familiar!

But I knew that wasn't it. It was something more than just a family resemblance which made me know him.

I shook Mel's hand and he smiled at me.

"I gather you and my grandson have been spending a lot of time together." Mel said, with an amused grin. James groaned.

"Old Man…" he warned. I gathered that was his nickname for this man who was his grandparent but barely looked old enough to be his father.

I chuckled. "Yes. Every time I think I've given him the slip he turns up just around the corner…" and I joked along with James and his grandfather, whilst gradually taking in my surroundings.

The Morgans had a lot of money. The funny thing was, although I knew James had money, just how much had escaped me, because Claridges aside, he hadn't made a big thing about his wealth. It was only now, coming to his family home, that just _how_ rich they were became clear. Mel must be worth millions.

For all that, however, it was a warm, welcoming home and I felt instantly comfortable in it.

Like the rectory it was Georgian, with a long sweeping drive which we didn't use because we trudged across the fields. I felt a little like Lizzie Bennett with her petticoats "six inches deep in mud", but in reality, although I was a little incongruous in my evening dress and hiking boots, my clothes suffered little damage, and we had brought a change of shoes.

Mel and James greeted me, Willow and her family in the large foyer of their home. It was so large it had its own roaring fire, sofa and armchair. A scruffy wolfhound was lying on the rug in front of the flames. I could see dark wood panelled doors leading in several directions and a large sweeping staircase off to one side.

After my initial introduction to Mel, James put a hand under my arm and drawing me to one side while Mel caught up with Willow and her parents, informed me that we were the first of many people to arrive and that I should prepare myself for a busy evening. Apparently, Mel organised an evening like this every year, encouraging his visitors to make a donation to a local charity in return for their invitation. His friends, for that was who most of the people were, were happy to give back a little in return for a pleasant evening, and what James called the best food this side of the Pennines.

I was disappointed in one absence however. Simon, James' brother was not able to attend, and neither were Anna and Lucy. They were busy making preparations for the wedding the following day.

As Willow had predicted, James had arranged for me to be invited to the nuptials too. I felt rather guilty about that. It wouldn't have mattered as much if the wedding party had been bigger, but as it was such a small gathering, I would be more obvious. Willow and James had laughed my objections away and told me they were glad I would provide a distraction.

We ate and drank a lot that evening and it was a wrench to go back out into the night for the trek home across the field. But I managed it without falling over or tripping over a sheep, so Derek would be happy.

When I had changed and was ready for bed, I managed a couple of paragraphs to email to Derek, and then I switched my light off and went to sleep.

* * *

My first full day at Willow's dawned early and sunny again, although it was still cold. After a massive cooked breakfast (to soak up the previous night's alcohol), we wrapped up so that we could go out and feed the few animals her parents kept, including three chickens and a duck. I chatted to Willow about her family, and the people we had dined with the night before.

"We need to go over to Jay's when we've done here. They want help with getting the house ready." She said, leaning against the fence surrounding the back yard. "They've decided to stick with the Christmas theme, but they want more decorations putting up. It'll be chance to meet Simon; although, Anna obviously won't be there."

The ceremony was set for 4.00pm at a local church and then everyone was to return to James' home for a small reception.

We finished up with the chickens and made our way over the field again. It was still early, only about eight am and when we arrived, the housekeeper informed us that James was still in bed, and Mel was 'training'. Willow took the initiative and led me through the foyer and up the massive staircase to the floor above. She seemed to know where James' room was because before I could comprehend what she was doing she was barging into a large bedroom and over to the massive four-poster bed.

"Knock, much, Wils." A voice groaned from under the covers.

"Come on. Up and at em, we've got a wedding to prepare for."

"Too fucking early." James said, but he sat up and glared at her as he said it. Willow laughed.

"Did I disturb your beauty sleep?"

He growled and Willow led me over to the window so that James could get up without an audience.

He dressed in tracksuit and t-shirt and combed his hair with his hands. He needed a shave, but settled for just cleaning his teeth in the en-suite. After five minutes, he was ready.

"Where's Mel?" He asked. "I was expecting him to wake me."

"Mrs Hodges said he was 'training'." I said, using my voice for the first time since we had arrived at the house. James' eyes widened and his whole demeanour changed.

"Training? With who?"  
I shrugged and followed as James sprinted for the door. Willow sighed.

"James." She pleaded. "We need to help with the preparations."

"Yeah. I know." He called back. "You go down and get started. I'll be with you in a moment. I need to see Mel. Casey, you want to come?"

I frowned and tried to catch him up. "Why are you surprised Mel is training?"

James paused as we near the staircase. "He only ever trains with me at home and he normally doesn't start without me. Something is up with him."

To my surprise, he turned abruptly just before the stairs and strode off down an alternative corridor. I followed as quickly as I could, looking over my shoulder to see Willow shaking her head in disapproval as she made her way downstairs.

"Half an hour, Jay or Anna will never forgive you."

"Sure!" James called distractedly.

At the end of the corridor was a door and when he opened it, I saw a second staircase, much plainer than the main staircase. He started to make his way down it, pausing after a few steps to wait for me.

"You should see Mel train." He smiled at me. "If you think I'm good, he's unbelievable."  
"When did I say you were good?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "Sometimes you rival Derek for ego size."

We reached the ground floor and exited into another corridor. James paused by a large door and listened.

"Good. They're still at it. The question is who is his opponent?"

* * *

As we stood there outside the door, I could hear the intro to Muse's _Cave_ I raised an eyebrow at James and he shrugged and pushed the door.

The door opened into a large room which I took to be a former ballroom. Stepping in a couple of steps, my dancer's instinct immediately noted the sprung floor which comfirmed the room's dance origins, but whatever it had been formerly, now it was obviously a room for some form of workout. Most of the floor surface was covered with a blue mat about an inch and a half thick.

In the centre was the tall figure of Mel and a shorter, much slighter opponent.

They were both dressed in the black costume I had seen James wear for our training sessions. The trousers were close-fitting, but not skin-tight like the black t-shirt. Mel's head was bare, but his opponent was wearing a tight stocking hat.

James and I stood just inside the door and watched in astonishment as the slighter figure ducked from one of Mel's lunges and twisted, catching Mel's own clothing in the process and pulling him to the ground. They both groaned with the attack's conclusion.

And I realised with a shock that the slighter figure was female.

Mel scissored his legs, sweeping the woman's own limbs from under her and she crashed to the ground, even as he got up. As she landed, she balled herself and rolled across the mat into a standing position again. James' grandfather was ready for her and they stalked each other again, I could see excitement in their eyes.

The girl lunged again. Mel parried her advance with a forwards motion which ducked her own grasp and pushed him passed her so that he was behind her back.

He took a step towards her, and sensing him by some strange intuition because he made no sound, She threw herself forwards into the air, somersaulting away from him, landing as gracefully as the most professional of cheerleaders several feet away.

As the "fight" progressed, I realised with amazement, that whilst Mel was hanging back, he wasn't hanging back _that_ much, and that on an off day, it was a moot point if this diminutive girl could best him.

I wondered if James, who I knew was strong and a Master and who I had fought myself on occasions, would suffer the same fate.

Evidently, so did James.

Mel and his attacker were pacing each other again.

"You look like you could use a breather, Old Man." The girl taunted him. "Shame. I could go on for ages yet."

"Fine." Said James from beside me. "Let Mel step down and I'll take you."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You think?"

"No." James said, and I could hear the swagger in his voice. "I know."

Mel straightened, bowed towards the girl respectfully and stepped away from the mats to join me. James, bare-foot and still looking as though he had just woken up, bowed and stepped onto the mat. Things might very well be platonic between us, but even I could tell right now, he looked hot as hell.

The girl bowed in reply and adopted a 'ready' stance then the pacing began again.

It was different this time it had a charged air about it. My mind flew back to distant memories, of Derek and me pacing like this in the midst of a physical fight. I remembered what it felt like to be so close to each other and yet so far apart. To feel as thought the most important moment in the world was when the small gap between you was closed. I remembered Derek's ragged breath against my skin, prickly where it caused the tiny hairs to rise and his warm brown eyes burning into mine as if he knew my soul. I was mesmerised as James stalked the girl in front of me and I was shocked at how animalistic it appeared.

Animal and sexual.

I blushed as I realised how few steps I had gone from thinking about Derek to thinking about our contact as sexual. And then I paled as I realised just how close Derek and I were during those fights…and just how close we had been to crossing the line.

The girl pounced, yet sudden though her movement was, James was ready for her. He grabbed her waist and threw her over his head. I waited for the crash as she hit the mat, but it never came. She curved her body into an arrow shape as though she was about to dive into a pool and when she landed on the floor and rolled to her feet, the entire routine, dance-like as it was, was silent.

James spun, knowing she would recover yet I saw the slight surprise in his eyes when he saw her already upright and moving towards him again.

It was like a dance; a beautiful erotic coupling between two people for whom the sexual attraction was inevitable. Derek's face swam unwittingly across my mind again and I felt a familiar warmth as the memory of _us_ circling each other replayed and I could almost hear his whispered 'Bring it'. And I realised how much I missed him.

The couple in the centre of the mat were moving closely and I gasped with the sudden release of tension as they finally touched and the fight began in earnest. There was a noise beside me and I looked up to see that Mel was chuckling softly.

"Quite a pair, aren't they?" He murmured quietly. I nodded.

"Has she been training long?" I asked.

His eyes misted. "All her life."

The fight progressed for several minutes and then finally James managed to subdue her. She was prostrate on the floor, his limbs held her arms and legs, his body trapping hers.

"I win. I think." He said, a smirk settling on his face.

The girl inclined her head slightly as though acknowledging defeat. I relaxed, Mel relaxed and James started to relax – which was when she jerked her head forward, kissing him abruptly on the nose and when he fell backwards in surprise, she shifted again and her right knee bent and smacked James right between the legs. He let go of her completely to cup his wounded dignity. In a flash, she was on her feet again, standing over him. Her musical laughter filling the room.

"Then again, Jay. Maybe not."

James sat in a crumpled heap looking up at her questioningly. He glanced across at his grandfather. Mel nodded to the girl.

She smiled and I noticed for the first time how beautiful her face was with its graceful lines and piercing blue eyes. She must be about our age, maybe younger.

She reached up to her head, grasped the stocking hat and pulled it from her head. A warm honey tumble of hair bounced to her shoulders and she discard the hat and ran her fingers through it, teasing it into place. She was absolutely stunning.

"Hello James Morgan. Long time, no see." She grinned.

James' eyes widened and I saw a degree of panic to them.

"Lucy?"


	18. Lucy

"_Lucy?"_

"God! I wish Simon and Anna could see this." Mel chuckled beside me.

"And Willow." I added. Mel grinned at me.

"Yes. She'd appreciate the irony. He's been so obnoxious about Lucy for so long. It's rather nice to see him get taken down a peg or two. I never thought she'd best him in the fight though."

Meanwhile, Lucy was holding out her hand for James to pull himself up. He declined.

"I'm still catching my breath." He muttered. The little bell that was her laughter rang again.

"Sorry. But, you know how it is with Mel's fight sessions, no rules – anything goes."  
James looked up at her. "Kissing me is cheating."  
She folded her arms across her chest. "Really? I seem to remember a little incident when I was thirteen…"

James suddenly smirked. "You remember that?"

"You stole my ice cream, of course I remember it.

James and Lucy carried on reminiscing.

"You got your own back though." He said, suddenly frowning. "I seem to remember finding jelly in my shoes."

Lucy's eyes widened. "Oh god! I did, didn't I? Well you deserved it. You were an obnoxious jerk!"

Watching from across the room, I bit my lip to hide the smile at Lucy's insult. There was something about that phrase…

They looked at each other intently as if they were connected by an invisible force.

And suddenly I got the whole "destiny" thing that Simon and Anna teased James about.

* * *

Beauty ran in the Cuinn family, because Anna was beautiful too; except she was blonde and definitely someone who Derek would look twice at. Fortunately, he was in Canada, and I was looking at Anna in her wedding dress. Lucy, as her matron-of-honour was standing beside her, looking nothing like the ninja-princess she had been early this morning. Belying the tradition which said you shouldn't wear green at a wedding, she was dressed in emerald green silk which draped from her small frame as though the worm had woven it for her and her alone. Her hair was a mass of honey red curls and while I was sure the curls were artificial, her hair colour was anything but. It wasn't the brassy red of Rosie, but a warm yellow colour, and her eyes sparkled in the dim light.

Off to one side, was Simon, unlike James, he was blond but he was equally tall. He had dressed in a smart dark charcoal suit as had James, who was standing beside him.

James looked uncomfortable, but he had been looking uncomfortable all day. I had questioned him and decided it was a combination of him losing forever his brother to the girl he had once loved, and of regaining the company of his nemesis. Lucy.

Every now and then he looked at her as though strangled.

And half of the room, smiled in understanding.

It wasn't a romantic discomfiture. He didn't look at her with eyes of longing – more like eyes of loathing. And I heard them bickering as they helped with the decoration of the reception rooms. But, I think I and those closest to them understood. This could only end one way. Although whether it would take a week or a lifetime was unclear.

The arguments I overheard concerned me, because it was like listening to a recording of my teenage years, only instead of Derek and Casey, I was hearing James and Lucy. And I was visited by a discomfort of my own.

Because this highlighted the truth of my own "relationship".

* * *

After the ceremony, and the food, when we were all mellow from eating and drinking too much, I found myself a perch to watch the dancing in the ballroom. I had been sitting there for a while when Lucy sought me out.

"It's Casey isn't it?" She asked pleasantly, and I looked up into intelligent eyes and knew there was a purpose to her introduction.

I grinned. "Hi Lucy!"

She jerked her head towards the door. "Fancy a drink?" Her voice was accented slightly betraying her Yorkshire origins, but rather than overbearing the slight inflection was what gave her that musical quality.

I followed her out into the main foyer and over to the drinks table which had been set near the door. We helped ourselves to wine and then settled on the couch in front of the fire. Cuchy the wolfhound looked up at the intrusion and then laid his head back to sleep.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to say a proper hello earlier." She apologised. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh?" I asked, curious as to who thought I was worthy of being mentioned to James' new sister-in-law.

"James talks about you all the time to Mel and he mentions it to Simon."  
I didn't know how to reply to this, but I needn't have bothered, Lucy was staring into the flames.

"This has been a strange day." She said, wistfully.

"It has." I took a deep breath. "Especially when you haven't seen each other in five years." I hope I came across as perceptive rather than nosey.

She smiled. "Actually, I was thinking more of the fact that I watched my sister marry the love of her life today and none of the parents were there."  
I blinked. No of course, neither her parents nor James' had been present. All four of them had died a long time ago.

My mind behaved appalling for a few seconds whilst it recalled the line from "The Importance of Being Earnest": 'To lose one parent might be called misfortune, to lose [sic] all four looks like carelessness.'"

"Was Anna very upset about that?" I asked, knowing how I would feel if I married without my mother there.

Lucy sighed. "Yes. Anna and our mum were incredibly close. I mean it will be bad enough if I ever…but, for Anna, losing my mum was like losing her best friend." She shook her head. "I lost them when I was twelve. You should lose a parent when you are an adult, not as a child."

I closed my eyes against the sudden pain. "It's no easier when you are an adult."

Something in my tone must have told her.

"When?"

"Did I lose Dad? About fifteen months ago. And some days it still feels like yesterday."

She nodded in empathy.

"How did it happen?"

"He was shot. He lived in New York and went to a late night grocery store to buy something because he had the munchies and walked in on a robbery. He was a lawyer and tried to talk the robber out of it. It went wrong."  
"Oh Casey!" Lucy muttered. "I've had years to grieve, your own grief must still be so raw."

I shrugged. "I'm working my way through it."  
"Do you have other family?"  
I smiled. "My mom is still alive, and my step-dad and I have siblings and step-siblings."

"How many?"

"A sister and a half-brother, and two step-brothers and a step-sister."

"Wow!" She sipped her drink. "At least you have a sister. I took so much support from Anna; too much at times. She had her own grieving to do."

"Lizzie is younger than me, so I couldn't really lean on her. And Mom was busy dealing with the funeral and Lizzie."

"So who did you lean on?" Lucy asked softly.  
"Erm…one of my step-brothers. We have a confrontational aspect to our relationship but he is the same age as me and he teased me back to life."  
"Teased?"

"Think 'annoying bastard' and you aren't far wrong."

"And that helped?" She looked confused.

I laughed. "He took my mind off the pain, and the overbearing sympathy of the people around me. It was Derek who broke the news to me. He didn't sugar coat it. Or simper."  
"How did you take it?"  
"I threw up on him…which was no more than he deserved."

She chuckled. "You two sound like me and James."

"Believe me, James has more class."

Lucy stared at the fire for a bit.

"Casey. Are you and he…?" She asked and I smiled a little at her question.

"James?" I shook my head. "I love him…but only as a friend. He made it clear quite early in our friendship that he thought I was too much hard work to actually consider dating me…and he has a point."

"I doubt that."

"James thinks there is someone else who he would be competing with."  
"Oh. And is there?"

I sipped my wine before answering her.

"To be honest with you, Lucy, I don't know. James thinks that the relationship between Derek and I is more than just a step-sibling one."

"And is it?"

"That is the million dollar question." I turned and smirked at her. "I'll tell you this, though. If there is anything romantic going on between me and Derek, you might want to run for the hills, because watching you and James fight is like watching me and Derek fight."  
Lucy smiled into the fire. "Oh I know what the relationship is between me and James." She surprised me by saying. "I've been in love with him since I first saw him. It's just taking him a while to realise that he feels the same way."

"And does he?"  
She turned her head towards me so that she could fix me with a very pointed stare, one eyebrow raised.

I got the message. It had been obvious from the moment I saw them fight.

"It's going to be an interesting few years." I said, lifting my glass to my lips to hide my smirk.

"Isn't it just? I can wait though. Stay in touch and we can swap notes." Lucy grinned.

"Deal!" I agreed, and we clinked glasses.

* * *

I went to bed that night missing home. The warmth of being at a small family gathering like I had today had taken its toll. I missed my own family. I missed Christmas in Canada. I missed Derekus.

I missed Derek.

The tears were flowing and the email I sent him was short:

"_I can't believe I am in England rather than at home. I miss everyone."_

I expected a suitably obnoxious reply.

What I got was:

"_Are you okay?_

Surprised, I continued my honesty session.

"_Yeah. Just…when everyone has gone to bed and I'm alone in my room, I think of home and all of you."_

And then he goes and spoils it.

"_All of me???? Okay. Which bit do you like the best? My awesome bod or my rugged good looks? Or maybe something a little more R-rated?"_

"_Der-ek!"_

As we argued our way on into the night, I remembered my words to Lucy. It really made no sense to think of there being something between Derek and me, or at least not anymore. We had been close for a while, but I hadn't seen him in so many months, and would not see him for a long time to come. The closeness in affection had come from a closeness in proximity. If there had been anything, with my moving to England, it will have receded – as was the plan. We were just friends again and that was all.

That was all that I wanted.

Wasn't it?


	19. Rosie Again

"_Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling_

_From glen to glen, and down the mountain side_

_The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying_

_'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide._

_But come ye back when summer's in the meadow_

_Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow_

_'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow_

_Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so._

_And if you come, when all the flowers are dying_

_And I am dead, as dead I well may be_

_You'll come and find the place where I am lying_

_And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me._

_And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me_

_And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be_

_If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me_

_I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me._

_I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me."_

"Where the hell did you learn to sing like that?" Willow asked me in astonishment as I finished.

"School choir. We had an Irish music teacher."

"In London?"

"No. Toronto. If they had a school choir at my London high school, I never found it."

"I bet you do a great rendition of 'Molly Malone' too." She decided. I grinned.

"She's good, isn't she James?" Willow continued.

James was silent. He'd been silent ever since we'd hit the M65 and headed towards Manchester. Willow nudged him.

"Oi! Don't ignore me. Stop day dreaming."

"What?" He roused himself from wherever his mind had drifted off to and stretched his fingers on the steering wheel.

"I said, hasn't Casey got a lovely voice, and I bet she'd do a nice version of 'Cockles and Mussels'." He didn't reply. "Oh for godssake, James! You'll see her soon enough."  
"See who?" His eyes darted to hers in sudden interest. I hid a grin.

"Lucy, dumm-ass."

"What makes you think I was thinking of Lucy?"

Willow banged her head back against the head rest and lifted her bare feet up onto the glove-box in front of her.

"Oh Please James. Credit me with some intelligence."

James glanced into the back of the car at me and I rolled my eyes. He grinned.

"I think you should sing 'Paddy McGinty's Goat.'"

I frowned. "Paddy McGinty's _what?_"

James launched into the song with glee and a fantastic approximation of the accent, and before long we were all wiping tears from our cheeks.

"So what time is Rosie expecting us?" James asked, changing the subject and appealing for me to help him.

"Tea time. I told her I would call her when I knew what ferry we were getting though, in case the ferry is delayed. And we weren't sure what the weather would be like in Wales."

The three of us were on our way to Dublin to spend New Year with Rosie, my best friend from Kingston. It was typical of Rosie's nature that her invitation to me to spend New Year with her had been extended to James and Willow, who she had never met. They were quite excited at the idea of celebrating an Irish New Year.

Willow confided in me that she hoped the change of scene would jerk James out of the funk he was currently in. Despite the singing earlier, at times over Christmas, it had been like spending time with an irritable bear.

Rosie's parents ran a farm on the outskirts of Dublin, and because the business included a bed and breakfast, there were plenty of rooms for Rosie to have us to stay. She had written promising good food, good music and plenty of laughs. I itched to see her again. I really hadn't been myself before I left for England and I wanted to show her I was back in the land of the living for good.

The entire journey took six hours because the sea was rough and the crossing slower than normal, and James and Willow argued over the navigating as soon as we reached the other side. It wasn't a long journey from the port to Rosie's farm, but it felt like it.

All the stress and weariness disappeared when we turned onto the little track leading to my Irish friend's home, because the red-haired devil had placed a massive 'Welcome' banner across the gate.

James had barely halted the car when the firebrand herself flew out of her house and over to us. In my haste to get out of the car I fell face first into the mud.

"Well now! Would you look at that!" She exclaimed. "Seven months since I last saw you and you still know how to make a show of yourself." She said laughing. "Good thing Derek didn't see that."

I grumbled something about "irritating step-siblings" and she chuckled even more.

"Really Casey! Anyone would think he was the devil's spawn the way you go on about him."  
"Rosie. You've met him. Tell me you think he isn't sadistic."

"Only towards you. He's always been rather sweet towards me."

I scoffed. "And we all know why that is. You're female. You have…assets."  
"Derek isn't interested in my assets."

I looked sceptically at her. "You must be the only female on campus whose assets he isn't interested in."

Rosie nudged at me in amusement. "You could rant and rave about him for days couldn't you?"

"Probably." I admitted.

"Well let's swap Derek stories later when I've got you all settled in. He's sent you something and I'm dying to see what it is."

Willow emerged from the car. "OOoo! Another Derek prank! Great!"

With friends like these…

* * *

Rosie's family were like her; completely and utterly barking.

Her mother was a slightly rounder version of her daughter, with the same laugh and sense of humour.

Her father was a leprechaun.

He was short, with a slight belly and a dark brown beard but no moustache. I could almost hear him saying, "Wahey! I'm off to find ma pot'gold". Instead, he was shy and after being introduced to us, merely muttered something about milking the cows. He pulled his coat on, stole the tea cosy from the warming teapot, placed it on his head and went out into the cold night air.

Willow and I exchanged glances and Rosie, spotting them, beamed.

"Oh don't mind Da. He keeps his hat on the teapot so that it's warm when he puts it on."

Somehow, I couldn't fault his logic.

James became more animated when he saw the enormous tea Rosie's mom had laid out. He complimented her outrageously and tucked in with a vengeance.

"I apologise, Mrs Walker." I said, throwing him a 'slow down and save some for the rest of us' look. "My friend here, has been starved since birth."

"It's Caitlin, me darlin', and don't worry about it. He's a growing lad and there's plenty more where that came from."

Rosie had put all of us in the converted barn where the bed and breakfast rooms were. She had given James and Willow single rooms, but I was to share a twin with Rosie.

"It's been so long since we got to sit up all night gossiping." my friend explained.

Next to our room was a little TV room set up for guests to sit of an evening, and it was there that the four of us ended up to catch up. Willow and Rosie got on like a house on fire, but James was still distant. I made a note to have a chat with him as soon as I could.

* * *

We had been sitting talking for an hour or so when Rosie suddenly sprung to her feet.

"Jesu, I'll forget my own head!" She disappeared and returned moments later with a gift bag. "Derek asked me to give you this." She held the bag back for a moment. "But I would just like to point out that I have no idea what it is, and therefore I cannot be held responsible for its contents."

"You managed to get it through customs and the x-ray machine?" I asked, taking the bag with suspicion.

"It's okay. It doesn't tick or buzz."

Willow giggled in the corner and even James sat forward.

The opening of the bag had been stuck together with tape. I peeled it carefully off and slid my hand into the bag. Immediately my hand closed on a long tube-like object.

"It's cylindrical." I stated. "Maybe it's TNT."

A nervous giggle ran round the room. I drew the tube out.

"It's a poster tube." Willow announced. "This could be good."

When the tube was free I glanced into the bag. In the bottom, I could see an envelope. For some reason, I decided not to take it out, instead closing the bag again and putting it behind me. I used my fingernail to unseal the tube and then slid my fingers into the mouth and withdrew its contents. The room was silent as I unrolled the paper.

It was a poster, slightly bigger than Letter format and from the quality of the paper, I could tell this wasn't something Derek had knocked up at home. He had had this printed professionally. The style was a movie poster in fact I was sure I had seen the exact poster before. It was black and white with an atmospheric scene of destruction. In the foreground were broken buildings, in the background smoky atmospheric lighting as though the world was on fire. In the middle was the large dinosaur creature which was obviously the source of the chaos.

Across the top of the poster, white lettering proclaimed "KLUTZILLA LIVES!!!" and lower down a byline stated that "Casey McDonald returns in her most destructive role ever. No man is safe from the She-monster and her vicious _crush_!"

Rosie and Willow started to laugh. But I couldn't join in.

I stuffed the poster back into the bag and fled for my room.

The person who followed me would not have been the one I expected, but when I thought about it later, it was the person who understood the most.

"Are you okay?" James asked.

I shook my head.

He closed the door behind him and sat on the bed next to me.

"Derek plays practical jokes all the time, Case. What got to you so bad this time?"

The tears were flowing down my cheeks by now.

"This wasn't a joke. It was a warning."

James looked taken aback. I pulled the poster out of the bag and unrolled it.

"Read it James."

He did so, and then added, "Sorry I don't follow."

"He's reminding me of how stupid it is to have feelings for him."  
James flopped back onto the bed with a sigh and then propped himself up on his elbow.

"Casey, sweetheart. You and Derek have the strangest relationship going, but I sort of thought I understood it, until now. All this poster says to me is that he's reminding you of the origins of your nickname."  
I snorted – a dangerous thing to do when you are the middle of a crying fit.

"You're closer than you think."

"Enlighten me, Casey, this is making my head hurt."  
"The 'Klutzilla' nickname came about because I used to get all clumsy when I had a crush on someone. He knows I have a crush on him and he's making fun of me."

James sat up again and brushed the side of his thumb against my cheek drying my tears.

"A crush?"

I nodded. James smiled gently.

"Casey. A crush is something shallow. It's a meaningless obsession for someone you want to get to know but can't. It's usually short-term and you usually don't know the person very well. What you have for Derek is not a crush." He dropped his hand and took a deep breath. "And from what I've seen of his pranks and emails, Derek knows that. Men are quite simple folk. If we know someone has a crush on us and we aren't interested, we don't tend to get expensive posters made up making fun of you. If he didn't care about you and all he wanted to do was warn you off, he'd have emailed you telling you to bugger off, not made arrangements for hand-delivered gifts. He's pulling your leg about your nickname, not warning you off, and the fact he is going to such lengths to prank and tease you tells me that his feelings are probably the complete opposite."  
I let my lips form a small smile. "Since when did you get to be the relationship counsellor?"

"What's wrong with a guy being in tune with the emotional side of life?"

"Ha! As if! If you were in tune, then you wouldn't be such an arse about Lucy."

James shrugged but he looked uncomfortable.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"We hate each other."

And I couldn't help it, but I just had to laugh.

"What?" He objected.

I patted the back of his hand condescendingly.

"You'll work it out."

* * *

**AN: The full lyrics to Paddy McGinty's Goat:**

PADDY MCGINTY'S GOAT

(Traditional)

Val Doonican - 1967

Mister Patrick McGinty, an Irishman of note,

Came into a fortune, so bought himself a goat.

Said he, "Sure, of goat's milk I mean to have my fill!"

But when he got his Nanny home, he found it was a Bill.

And now all the ladies who live in Killaloo

Are all wearing bustles like their mothers used to do.

They each wear a bolster beneath the petticoat,

And leave the rest to Providence and Paddy McGinty's goat!

Missis Burke to her daughter said, "Listen, Mary Jane, .

Now who was the man you were cuddling in the lane?

He'd long wiry whiskers all hanging from his chin."

"Twas only Pat McGinty's goat, " she answer'd with a grin.

Then she went away from the village in disgrace,

She came back with powder and paint upon her face.

She'd rings on her fingers, and she wore a sable coat,

You bet your life they never came from Paddy McGinty's goat.

Little Norah McCarthy the knot was going to tie,

She washed all her trousseau and hung it out to dry.

Then up came the goat and he saw the bits of white:

He chewed up all her falderals, and on her wedding night:

"Oh turn out the gas quick!" she shouted out to Pat,

For though l'm your bride, sure l'm not worth looking at.

I'd got two of ev'rything, I told you when I wrote,

But now I've one of nothing, all thro' Paddy McGinty's goat.'

Mickey Riley he went to the races t'other day.

He won twenty dollars and shouted, "Hip Hooray!!"

He held up the note, shouting "Look what I've got!"

The goat came up and grabbed at it and swallowed all the lot.

"He's eaten my banknote," said Mickey, with the hump.

They ran for the doctor, he brought a stomach pump.

He pumped and he pumped for that twenty dollar note,

But all he got was ninepence out of Paddy McGinty's goat.

Now old Paddy's Goat had a wonderous appetite,

and one day for breakfast he ate some dynamite.

A whole box of matches he swallowed all serene

and then he went and gobbled up a quart of paraffin.

He sat by the fireside, he didn't give a hang,

swallowed a spark and exploded and exploded with a bang.

SO if you go to heaven you can bet a dollar note....

that the Angel with the whiskers on is Paddy McGinty's Goat.

The End


	20. The Letter

James went back to the other girls and told them I was tired and had decided to get an early night. He wasn't far wrong. I didn't even have the energy to log on and email Derek.

And that was unusual. I had emailed him every night since his birthday. But when I got into bed, sleep didn't come easily.

After a while, Rosie came to bed. She was cautious as she entered the room we were sharing, checking to make sure I was awake before she made any noise. Once she had established that I was still conscious, she bounced into the room waxing lyrical about my London friends. It seemed in my absence the three of them had coped just fine.

It wasn't until she was totally ready for bed that she asked me what I knew must be a burning question.

"So what was your problem with Derek's present?"

I sighed and gave her the explanation I had given James. Rosie stared at me but she said nothing.

After a few minutes, I grew impatient with her silence.

"Rose?"

She shook herself. "Sorry. I was just…" She paused. "…Casey do you want him to want you? I mean, he's your step-brother and that complicates things."  
It was my turn to stare now. I knew about the implications of me and Derek having a relationship and the effect it would have on our family. It wasn't that I hadn't thought about it – it was one of the main things I thought about on the rare occasions that I allowed myself to think about Derek like that.

But, if something did happen, I hoped that our friends and family would understand, and would be supportive. Rosie's question did not seem hopeful that it would be the case.

"Rosie. The past eighteen months have been so topsy-turvy, I don't know what I want for breakfast anymore let alone my relationship with Derek. I'm upset about the poster because I had hoped if I did have feelings for him that they weren't obvious and I could get through this weird sensation sensibly…and marry a doctor or something."

Rosie laughed. "Casey. I think you've misinterpreted the poster. I just think he meant it as a joke. But, I also think you need to consider how you feel about Derek, properly. I say that because there are two of you in the relationship and that means there are _two_ people who could get hurt."  
"But, only one who _will_ get hurt, and let's face it, it won't be Derek."

Rosie was quiet again, but this time she broke first. "Case. Don't make assumptions."

"Meaning?"  
"Derek has a heart too."

I curved an eyebrow. "Really? Did he get a transplant?"

"Case-y!"

"Sorry. Did he say something to you?" Derek mentioned Rosie quite a bit in his emails, and for a while there I had wondered if there was something going on between them. But I knew that Rosie was dating someone else, so that couldn't be true. Could it?

Considering that he only knew her through me and the events surrounding my father's death, I wondered how Rosie was so confident about the existence of Derek's heart.

I wondered if they talked about me.

"I'm just saying. Be careful what you wish for. Make sure it is what you want."

* * *

Rosie's breathing was regular now so even in the dark I knew she was asleep. All my tiredness had gone though and I lay awake, thinking about the conversations I had had recently with _all_ my friends. The problem was, none of this was going to be settled whilst I still had another three months on a separate continent to Derek.

After a while, I remembered the envelope in the gift bag, and suddenly curious, I picked up my little torch from the nightstand and went to retrieve it. I pulled the envelope from the bag, and it felt thick with something lumpy in it.

I waited until I was back in bed, under the warm covers before I opened it, and immediately, a smaller envelope made of soft, red velvet slipped out and dropped onto the bed beside me. I frowned at it and temporarily laid down the paper envelope to examine the cloth one. My eyes widened in surprise.

It contained a gold chain with a single ornament: a tiny golden book which had been crafted as though its pages were open. My name was etched in beautiful calligraphy across the bend of the page. It was exquisite.

I undid the clasp and put it round my neck because I loved it.

Even though I had yet to discover who had sent it to me.

Returning my attention to the paper envelope I realised it was stuffed with paper – and evidently a letter, a very long letter.

It consisted of large ruled notepaper – the sort I used for taking notes in college, and I marvelled at how long the letter was – at least six pages, and each side had writing on it. Someone had written me a twelve page letter!

What was more astonishing was that I quickly realised I recognised the handwriting.

It was Derek's.

Derek and I had been communicating by email pretty much solidly since the day I left Canada – excusing the little hiatus where he was an ass. I was used to his emails. They were normally a couple of paragraphs, thrown out onto his keyboard at the end of the day.

They weren't twelve pages of close-written handwriting.

My hands were shaking as I started to read. I wondered if this was the formal brush off that James had mentioned.

* * *

"_Dear Casey,_

_I guess I should say Happy New Year as you are going to get this from Rosie when you see her. So here we go:_

_Happy New Year!_

_I can't believe it is nearly seven months since you left, and whilst I know that we've emailed nearly every day, it occurred to me, that I don't actually tell you a lot of what is going on around here in my emails and that maybe I should._

_Before you start freaking out, because I know you and you probably are, everyone and everything is okay. _

_So chill._

_Where shall I start?_

_Hmmm…how about our friends? Are you still in touch with Emily? Because I have good gossip in that quarter, and Sam and Ralph have been up to stuff…I'm willing to share! _

_Then there're some of the Edwin stories which you probably missed – mainly because Nora and Dad don't know. I guess I'll fill you in on that too._

_Anyway, more of that later…"_

And so Derek went on. He talked about Emily and the storm she was kicking up at U of T amongst the hockey team there. (Apparently, she was working her way through them in a very public manner). He cited Sam for his source of information – and speculated on whether _he_ had been one of her conquests. Then, he told, how, amusingly, Sam had been making a name for himself amongst the girls at U of T and he cited Emily as the source for that!

He talked about Ralph and his latest career choice and how Amanda was back on the scene in a big way - a situation which Derek had only become aware of when Ralph had casually dropped into conversation that Amanda thought she might be pregnant. (The idea of baby Ralphs amused Derek no end.)

He joked about rumours he had heard from school about Paul Greeby being offered the vice-principal role by Lassiter and how one of our science teachers had been caught growing weed in the Biology glasshouse.

And then Derek talked about our family: Edwin's latest pranks, Lizzie's newest sports achievement, Marti's latest obsession and Robbie's bizarre food preferences.

As he wrote, I read between the lines.

Whilst he quipped the usual derogatory things about me being a keener and a klutz around guys, I marvelled at how he was writing to me. I had never known Derek _write_ to anyone before, not even Sally after she left for Vancouver. And here he was, writing twelve-page missives to his keener step-sister to supplement the daily emails he already sent.

It made me smile, and miss him all the more. And yes…it gave me hope.

The letter went on, talking about George and my Mom, and the changes they were making to the house. He talked about Icky Vicky and how she had been seen with Truman _again_.

"_Honestly, Casey. I know she is your cousin, but seriously, how the hell can you two possible share the same genes? Even you worked out the guy was a douchebag in the end."_

I wasn't sure if that was an insult or a compliment.

Finally, when he had exhausted every other topic under the sun, except the one I wanted to know about most, (namely how he felt about me), he started to talk to me about the events going on in his own life.

"_I guess I've said enough about everyone else, Case. It's probably time to talk about me. And you won't believe this, but what I am going to tell you I haven't told anyone else and I have to admit I can only talk to you about it in a letter. I can talk to you because you aren't here and if you laugh at me I won't hear it. I hope you will have curbed your humour before we see each other again._

_The fact is I hate my frat house. _

_Yes I mean that. _

_No I'm not going insane._

_The guys are noisy, and I can't believe I am saying this, are a bunch of animals - and it's getting harder to sleep at night, and believe it or not, concentrate. I've had to spend more and more time at the library – PLEASE contain yourself, McDonald. It isn't funny._

_I know the gut-reaction is to laugh (or in my case, vomit) but don't. I can't get any peace living with them. When they aren't making an almighty din they are trying to drag me out to a party or pulling me in on some prank. (They seem to think only I can come up with pranks)._

_The trouble is, much as this might seem like my ideal situation – plenty of parties, alcohol, girls etc. it is far from it. I really need to pass these courses because I finally worked out what I want to do with my life. I want to go into photojournalism but when I discussed it with my mentor, he pointed out that the internships are incredibly competitive and I need to pull my grades up._

_Suddenly, Dad's decision to ditch the pranking at college makes sense. I guess when you realise where you want to be it is easier to keep focused._

_And before you start to nag, my grades are good already- far better than they were in school. I just need them to be even higher. Does this sound familiar? _

_Except this time you aren't here to help._

_The hockey is going okay, but I guess I see it more as a hobby these days. Once I decided my direction and the possibility of hockey as a career receded, the enthusiasm waned slightly._

_Now you know…I turned into a keener._

_Case, I missed you anyway, but I guess I miss you even more now, because now I understand what it is to want to achieve something. And this goes against the grain, but I'll take any life lecture you want to give me right now. I need the advice._

_I'm sorry about the poster, but I figure your friends and Rosie were expecting a Derek prank and I had to oblige. Your real Christmas present is attached to this letter. I hope you won't mind if I say I saw it and thought of you._

_It's a good thing Rosie is hand-delivering this. If I write anymore she might go over her weight limit on hand luggage._

_I don't expect you to write back. An email will do. Just to warn you, I'm on a hockey tour in February so there maybe a time when emails from me are few and far between. Live with it._

_And on that note, Happy New Year, princess._

_Love D._

_P.S. Don't get used to this._


	21. Casey's Response

I wasn't joking about my talk with my mentor. I was averaging a respectable eighty two for most of my courses, but when I heard what it took to gain a decent journalism internship, I realised I was going to have to make a few decisions.

Correction: life-style choices.

I walked home from my meeting pondering why I couldn't manage to improve my grades. I knew the subjects inside out and my photograph and media skills were scoring in the high nineties. When I reached home and pulled out the latest assignment to work on, I realised the problem. No sooner had I put fingers to laptop keyboard than the music started.

I wrote to Casey that I was sick of living with my frat brothers. You know I always thought that guys started "settling down" because of some woman they fell in love with who suddenly made them want to wash more and put the toilet seat down.

But the events of the last couple of semesters had shown me that there were only so many times that you can try to piss in a toilet covered in three week old vomit without retching yourself, and you can only put off that critical essay for so long because of the constant party above your room before you need to relocate to the library.

Once you become focussed in life, it's difficult to let go. It helped me understand Casey a hell of a lot better.

In the back of my mind, I wondered how the hell she had put up with living in our house during the school years.

And that was another part of my problem.

Casey.

I missed her.

I missed her at college, even though I had only ever seen her once a week at best. (I still met up with Rosie on a Friday night for a drink in the bar. We swapped notes on our mutual friend.)

I missed her at home. Her bedroom was empty beside mine, the seat at the dinner table opposite was replaced with the highchair belonging to our brother, and the only person who fought me for the remote was Edwin, who should know better.

If we had actually been dating, I could have understood my behavioural changes better. She was the woman making me wash more, and care more.

But Casey was still only my step-sister.

* * *

"_Hi D. It's Dad." _The voice mail said._ "Look. Just to warn you, I'm coming to Kingston this weekend and I wondered if you were free to meet up. Maybe we could catch a game or something?. Anyway. Give me a call when you get this."_

I frowned. Dad was coming to Kingston? Why? He and Nora had visited once in my very first semester and that was because Casey had gotten homesick. Why was Dad coming now?

Of course, I phoned him straight away and his answer was a bit of a surprise. Casey had finally been given her share of Dennis' estate and having discussed it with my father had decided to invest it in property. She was going to purchase an apartment in Kingston with a view to living in it during her final time at college and then renting it out as a source of income when she had graduated and left. The concept wasn't unusual, lots of people did it. The idea that Casey's legacy was enough for that…a bit mind-boggling.

Dad (and more importantly, Nora) had been charged with coming to Kingston house-hunting.

They turned up late on the Friday night and I was a little disappointed that they were alone. It had been a while since I had been home and I missed Smarti and Robbie. I missed Edwin and Lizzie too, but it was the younger Venturis that I missed the most. I was limiting my trips home because every one reminded me that Casey was still thousands of miles away.

Dad had booked a hotel room for him and Nora and I knew they were treating it as a bit of a "get away from the kids" trip. They invited me for dinner though, and I've never been one to turn down a free meal. I met them at a restaurant close to the campus and for once let Casey's mother hug me.

"You look pale, Derek. Are you eating?"

I gave her my 'seriously, Nora?' look and she grinned.

"Good. But you need to get out in daylight hours more."

"You make me sound like a vampire Nora."

"Bite me!" My step-mother retorted.

Dad and I laughed comfortably.

It was strange but I guess we were all adjusting to the idea that I was an adult.

"So Casey is an heiress and you are tasked with finding her a pad worthy of her new-found wealth." I stated over the massive pepperoni pizza I had ordered.

Nora bristled. "Hardly Derek. Dennis left her a little money and, yes, it is enough for her to buy a small apartment, but that's all."

"Is it a good idea?" I asked. "I hadn't thought that Casey would settle in Kingston."

Dad shrugged. "The idea is she buys a property, lives in it while she needs it and then rents it out when she leaves. I've looked into it at length. It's a good investment.

"You're looking at properties tomorrow?"

"Yes why? You want to come and give us the benefit of your opinion?"  
I looked at him astounded. "You want _my_ opinion?"

Nora smiled. "Derek. You live in this town, we don't. You're a student and know what students want, we don't. And like us, you know Casey. You are the best person to tell us what to avoid and what to go for."

I have to be honest I was rather flattered.

* * *

I'll hand it to George. He had been thorough. He had lined up no less than fifteen properties to view over the two days. And by the time we had finished…I _was_. (finished that is).

And in typical Murphy's Law fashion, the best was the last.

It was totally Casey.

For a start, you could see the library from the master bedroom and it had a window box. The bathroom was relatively new, and so was the kitchen.

As far as Casey would have been concerned that was all it needed.

For the rest of us, there were two reasonable bedrooms. That gave Casey added income because she could take a roommate and have them pay a small amount which would cover Casey's own expenses. There was a decent sized living area and the current owner was not planning on taking the suite or any of the kitchen's white goods with them when they left.

The best bit as far as I was concerned was it had a tiny off-road parking space.

"I like this." I whispered to Dad.

"It needs decorating." Nora said from his other side. I rolled my eyes. Okay so the décor was appalling, but you had to look at the pluses and there were a lot of pluses.

"If Casey's bothered by it she can decorate over the summer." I stated.

Dad agreed. "It's about the basics, Nora. We can work on the rest." He straightened. "Right. I think we need to talk to the realtor."

And that was that. By the end of the day, Casey was established as the prospective owner of a two-bedroom town house in Kingston.

The deal was done two weeks later.

Casey had to post the paper work but eventually Dad, on her behalf was in possession of the keys.

The first weekend after the deal was completed, he and Nora brought the whole family to Kingston to see Casey's new home.

* * *

Nora moaned about the carpets and the curtains and the wallpaper, but we all understood it was a professional thing. She drew up plans which would never get implemented because this house belonged to her daughter – not to her. Casey would take her advice but the final décor was her own.

The younger McDonald-Venturis ran all over the place, charging up and down the stairs, playing peeka-boo in the cupboards and (in Robbie's case) christening the toilet. I took pictures to email to Casey and (backhandedly) reassured her in my emails that it was nicer than any dorm room she had ever had.

The big shock of the day came at the end when the rest of the family were planning to go and I was getting ready to return to my frat house.

Dad handed me a letter and told me to go read it and the rest of them would wait in the car.

"_Dear Derek,_

_Welcome to my new home, which though it pains me to say it, you are already more familiar with than me. It will be another five or six months before I take possession of my new apartment, and you know what I am like, I will stress about it being empty until then._

_So I propose a business arrangement. Enclosed are the keys to this apartment, and it is yours until I am ready to move in. The agreement is that provided you look after it and respect it, I will not charge you rental._

_I hope that you will find it quieter than your frat house – and I state here and now NO PARTIES hot shot!_

_Anyway, Dad tells me that the second bedroom is big enough for a double bed and I have allocated some money for you to buy a new bed for that room. I will sort my own room out when I get home._

_Behave yourself. I'm taking a chance on you with this. I'm choosing to listen to what you said about your frat house. So don't bite the hand that feeds you._

_One further favour. Can you send me pictures of every room? I'm quite excited and I want to look for things for my new pad while I'm over here._

_Yours (in the grammatically correct sense),_

_Casey XXXXX"_

I stared at the words. She was insane.

Beautiful, caring, considerate, intelligent…

…but definitely unhinged.

It took me less than three hours to move in.


	22. Derek Does The Full Monty

"So let me get this straight. Casey comes into a stack of money from her father's death and decides to buy her own pad."

"Yup." I nodded.

"And because she won't be here for seven months…"  
"Five…may be six."

"Six months she appoints you as her custodian."  
"Got it in one."

"You lucky, jammy fucker!"

I beamed at Tom. "Tell me about it."  
Tom rolled his eyes and muttered something about me 'blowing St Peter'.

Seriously, the guy had no grace about him.

He sipped the celebratory beer I had given him and prowled around my…correction Casey's apartment.

He was impressed. I could tell. Only the most loaded of our peers had their own apartments and lived alone. It was like being elevated to god status. I could see his plans through his forehead as though it was plate glass: parties, girls, no rules.

And seriously, yeah I could sort of see it all too.

Then he went and ruined it.

"So…honestly, D. What the fuck are you doing?"  
"Living the high life, dude."

"No Derek. I meant why when you could be partying are you spending all your spare time stripping fucking wallpaper?"

* * *

It was late January. In two weeks time I would be leaving for London, England. I was trying not to think about it.

How do you deal with the consequences of something which is nothing? Casey and I had always had a unique relationship which meant understanding where it went now, and working out how I was supposed to deal with it was not easy. I had no terms of reference.

It had been hard enough trying to figure out the correct course that first time when we first went to Queens. Since then her father had died, we had become friends again, and as of a couple of weeks ago, I was living in her apartment. Which made us what?

Roommates?

And at the end of the day, the only label I could use was the familial one. She was my step-sister.

Step-sister.

The woman I had spent hours photo-shopping pictures for. The woman I emailed every night. The woman I hand-wrote a twelve page letter to.

(Actually, _ahem_ technically she might have received more than one letter since New Year).

At the end of the day, she was Casey.

And that was reason enough for me to start pulling the shitty wallpaper off the walls.

That and the fact I had accidentally splashed something against the wall and it wouldn't wipe off so I decided to pull that section of wallpaper off. It came away so easily the entire room was stripped before you could say 'MDF'.

And that had got me thinking, so now I was on a _mission._

I was calling it "Project Strip the Crappy daisys from the walls of Casey's apartment" or "Project Strip" for short. (It sounded good for my team mates when I ditched early from the post-game party if I said I had an appointment with a stripper.)

I planned to take all the wallpaper off the walls, and then Casey would have a blank canvas to paint over the summer. If she was nice, I might even help.

Probably "help" of the "stand there with a beer saying 'you missed a bit'" variety.

* * *

"Rosie. Quit with the inquisition okay? I just need to know you'll do it." I said, turning back to the bar in frustration.

"You know I will."

"Good. The trash gets emptied on Monday. Could you pop in once a day? Or at least do a drive by."  
"Yes Derek. Just don't expect me to strip wall paper."

I jerked my face back to hers.

"How'd you know about that? You haven't told Casey have you?"  
Rosie laughed. "No D. Your secret is safe with me."

"It's not a secret." She looked at me, a 'give me a break' expression on her face. "Okay. I don't want her to know about the stripping…but can you blame me for getting all DIY? You saw the wallpaper."

"Relax Derek. I think it's sweet." I pulled a face and she continued. "How far are you going with this decorating lark, anyway?"

I shrugged. "Not sure. The paper's nearly off. But some of the walls need filling and the paintwork could do with a fresh coat."

"Don't forget to sand it down first and use a primer."

"A what?"

"Undercoat. You can't just slap a fresh coat on. You need to prepare the surface."

"How the hell do you know?"

"I used to do a Saturday job in a DIY store when I was at school. You should talk to George and Nora. Nora especially. She'll tell you how to go about it."

"I can't, Rose."

"Why not?" her eyes narrowed. "Oh. Because it tells your parents something about you and Casey that you don't want them to know?"  
I didn't reply.

"Derek?" She quizzed softly.

"I don't want Nora to know because I don't want her to get the wrong idea about me and Casey."

"That you're falling for her?"

"No!" I ran my fingers through my hair. "I don't want Nora to think that I'm doing this because I'm Casey's _brother_."

Her mouth opened and closed silently.

Well that was a first. A speechless Irish Pixie.

"Just what exactly is going on between you two anyway?"  
"You tell me. You saw Casey last." I retorted.

"Yes, I did." She admitted.

"And?"

"She was no bloody help either." The red head admitted.

_Thank you Casey!_ I grinned at Rosie who rolled her eyes.

"Why wouldn't you let me tell her that you were going to London?" She changed tack slightly.

"I still haven't decided if I'm going to meet up with her." I half-lied. I was ninety nine percent sure I would manage to talk myself out of it by the weekend.

Casey's friend took a thoughtful sip of her drink.

"Rather you than me."  
"Rather you than me _what_?"

"Going all the way to London. Being only a few miles from a slightly homesick Casey, and _not_ going to see her? Can you imagine the grief you'll get when she finds out? Hey even I daren't go back to Ireland without inviting her over."

"You make it sound like she would want to see me." I pushed.

Rosie held up defensive hands. "I'm saying nothing, babe. But, it's your funeral."  
I nodded in agreement.

"When do you go?"

"Late Friday afternoon. Land first thing Saturday morning. You got anything you want me to take for Casey? Assuming I go." _Please say no, Nora's already given me enough "essentials" to fill an extra suitcase._

"Yeah. I'll drop them off tomorrow when I come round to pick up the keys. You can show me your stripping moves."

I leant close to Rosie. "Hey babe, you don't have to flirt. You want in my pants all you have to do is ask." I lied.

Her jaw dropped and I saw a look of horror flash across her eyes.

(If I hadn't been sure of her reaction, I never would have made the comment.)

"Please tell me that was a sick joke." She pleaded. I laughed loudly and genuinely.

"Jesus Rosie! Your face is a picture. Of course I was fucking joking. You're my…_whatever's_…best friend. I'd sooner stick it in vat of acid." I grinned at her to make sure she knew there was no offence intended.

She blew out a breath. "Thank Christ for that!"

* * *

"Okay, you bunch of fucking assholes! Up here looking at me please!" The Senior Coach, a big boulder of a guy stood at the front of the bus and looked down at the hockey squad before him.

"Contrary to popular belief, _this_ is _not_ I repeat, _not _just a jolly. You are going to work your asses off because the moment one of you steps out of line he will be on the next fucking plane home. Am I understood?"

"Yessir Coach Sir!" The bus replied. I was among the chorus and I knew to keep the smirk from my face. Coach Andrews had been a US Marine and he treated his squad like a troop of boot camp rats. I had crossed him once.

I wasn't planning on it again.

Coach Andrews smacked a pile of paper into the chest of the subordinate next to him.

"Distribute!" he ordered.

The minion started moving down the bus handing each player a copy of the paper.

"These are the finalised instructions for our little trip. Read, inwardly digest, do _not_ forget. The items marked in red are compulsory. Miss one and its 'bye bye baby'. There's no 'three strikes and you're out' on my watch.

The items marked in yellow are optional. Our hosts have laid on some entertainment, including day trips and so on. It is up to you whether you attend these. The items marked in green are the things you are allowed to do and the times you are allowed to do them. Do not get items marked in red confused with the other two categories or I will _send you home!_" he took a pause.

"And that gentlemen is my only rule. _HOWEVER,_ I too will be partaking in the pleasures of London. I do not wish my yellow and green time to be taken up with any of the following:

Attendance at a Police Station

Wiping away female tears

Attendance at a hospital

Reimbursing our host university for any damage caused by fire, flood or the after-burn of Wilson's farts."

Cue ripple of laughter as the squad enjoyed the joke. Wilson laughed harder than anyone else. Coach continued.

"For the record, can I just remind you about some little things that your mother should have taught you by now which will make our stay in England run much smoother? Number One: No means no even if she's hot. Number two: 'Dressed is best' and I'm talking about your dicks not your apparel. And Number Three: Don't do to her what you would object to some other fucker doing with your sister. End of lecture. Driver! You may go."

Tom leaned over the seat from behind me.

"At least you get to cut out the middle man, D and just 'do your sister'."

"Fuck off."

* * *

The flight was quiet, and our lot, for once were reasonably behaved. Provided you didn't notice the moment when our goalkeeper disappeared into the toilet with one of the cabin crew (female) or how every time the stewardess turned her back our reserve winger helped himself to several little bottles of gin.

I had been given a seat near the coach and I suspected that was by his design. It wasn't like grade school where you were seated near the teacher to keep you out of trouble. Coach Andrews had picked me because I was currently the complete opposite. I hadn't been in trouble for nearly two years. I guess he wanted an easy life.

"So Venturi." He turned to me early in the flight. "What have you got planned for your free time while we're in London?"

Tom answered for me. "He's going to be spending quality time with his sister."

Unaware of the realities of the situation, Coach looked surprised.

"Your sister is in London?"

I threw Tom a look and nodded to Andrews.

"My step-sister is on an exchange programme studying in London. My step-mom wants me to go drop some stuff off."

Coach Andrews nodded absently as he watched the goalkeeper emerge with the young flight attendant.

"Well do yourself and me a favour, Venturi. Don't bring her anywhere near this lot."


	23. Jet Lag and other Hitches

Okay. I accept it. Casey was right about the sunrise over London.

It was a crisp, clear morning when we landed, so there were few clouds. I looked down at the landscape below and felt a strange shiver when it occurred to me that Casey was now only a few miles from me.

"Nervous?" Tom asked quietly through the gap in the seat.

I didn't answer.

He muttered something which sounded like "whipped" and turned back to talk to the guy next to him.

We were all a little weary as we got off the plane and made our way through Immigration. The group had a lot of luggage so we were some of the last to emerge through the arrivals gate and be met by the bus which had been tasked with taking us into the city. As the bus pulled out of the airport compound and joined the main highway towards London, some of the guys fell asleep, but I couldn't. I watched the scenery pass by acclimatising myself to the idea of driving on the left hand side of the road, and eventually as we started into the suburbs of London, looking at the people on the sidewalks. I wondered what Casey was doing and then smiled when I realised she was probably still asleep.

Eventually, we reached the university which I had already scoped out as being quite a distance from Casey's. They unloaded us and allocated rooms, then left us to "settle in".

"Interesting choice of décor." Tom said, pointing to the orange drapes. I grinned.

"University accommodation is obviously the same the world over." I replied.

"We don't have to meet up with every one else for another couple of hours. I think we are supposed to sleep. Are you tired or would you rather go get something to eat?"  
"Tom. Just exactly how long have you known me?"

He laughed. "I spotted a McDonalds on the way here. You wanna go take a look?"

We walked the streets for twenty minutes, before eventually finding the golden arches about five minutes walk from our dorm.

"You and your fucking awful sense of direction." I growled. Or maybe that was my stomach. "You'd struggle to find your peen in the dark."

"Stop complaining ass-wipe. I got us here didn't I?"

He pushed open the door and soon we were tucking into the largest pile of fast food you had ever seen.

"There is something curiously decadent about eating a Big Mac and fries before 10am." I announced, my chin dripping burger juice.

"Jeez, Derek. It's bad enough knowing you fancy your step-sister without it sounding as though you swallowed her dictionary. "Decadent"?"

"Just because you're a moron."

"Hey "Red neck". At least _I_ don't want to stick it to my sister."

"Good. I wouldn't stick it to your sister either." I replied wittily – if I do say so myself.

"Someone's in a good mood."  
"What can I say? Sugar rush and saturated fat."

We ate in silence for a while.

"Have you decided when you are going to see her?"  
I shrugged. "Next week sometime."

Tom stopped eating.

"Over my fucking dead body. You are not moping around our dorm room until next week. Just get it the fuck over and done with."

"When do you think I should try and see her?"

"Well, this evening is _green_ time. Why don't you pop over and see if you can take her out to dinner?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Saturday night. Too much like a date."

"Derek. Get some balls please before I think that they landed me with a wallflower for a roommate instead of a man. "Like a date", because…I don't know… maybe it is a date?"

I glared at him.

* * *

The rest of the day was…tedious. The group reconvened just before lunch and we were subjected to a welcome speech followed by an inadequate buffet and three hours later I emerged hungry again.

The team were taken to the rink to see the rink facilities and frankly most of us were disgusted. Suddenly the little "remember that ice hockey isn't the national sport over here" speech on the way made a lot of sense.

Finally, at around five pm, we were released.

Most of the team were heading for a pizza restaurant someone had googled, followed by a club, there was some talk of a tit bar later too. Tom and I went back to our room to change.

"What's it to be DV?" Tom asked nonchalantly. "The guys or the girl?"

I sighed, looking at the rucksack I had filled with the stuff Nora and Rosie had given me.

"I need to get rid of that."

"You need to get rid of the blue balls, dude. The question is will the lucky girl be the one you know or the one you don't."

I pulled a face at him.

"Come on D. In the interests of international relations, spread a little love. Spear yourself an English Rose."

I snorted. "Dude. I've only been in London less than a day but even I can tell this city is so cosmopolitan you could probably walk for days without brushing shoulders with a Brit. Besides, I've never been a 'pick 'em up in a tit bar' guy and you know it."

"Casey wins, huh?"

"Over my dead body…but tonight she at least gets the goodie bag from Nora."  
Tom raised his eyebrows. "And what about the goodie bag from Derek?"

* * *

Finding my way hadn't been too bad. Apparently, most people negotiate the city using the Tube, so directions are always given in tube stations first, streets later.

"The Tube". Hmmm… strange name, but the reality was better than I had expected. The Brits are famous for doing themselves down, and I knew that the Tube got more than its fair share of criticism. But, my experience hadn't been too bad.

Mind you. I was travelling on a Saturday evening and not during rush hour.

I spent the entire journey wondering if I was insane. The rest of the squad were tucking in pizzas right now and I was trekking across a foreign city to see a girl who I _shouldn't_ see and who probably wouldn't want to see me when I got there.

Magic!

Finding the campus wasn't difficult. Finding Casey's dorm…significantly harder. And right in the middle of my frustration, my cell phone rang.

"D! How are you doing?"  
Dad.

"Fine." Or I will be just as someone tells me where the fuck I am.

"You got there okay then?"

"Yeah. Landed. Dorm room is like something out of a seventies porn movie but other wise okay."

"Seen Casey yet?"

"Dad. I've been in the city less than twelve hours…"

"Yeah…sorry."  
I sighed. "Tell Nora, I'm in the process of trying to find her dorm as we speak and I'll ask her to phone you as soon as she gets the Christmas presents, okay? But it may not be tonight."

"Thanks D."

"I'd say 'anytime' but really 3,000 miles to play Santa?"

A few minutes later, I found the Students Union. Right now a beer sounded fantastic so I walked in, showing my International Student card and made my way to the bar. A bottle of Bud later, and some more specific instructions from the girl behind the bar, I tried again to find Casey's dorm. Evidently the jet lag had screwed my ability to read because I'd turned left when I should have turned right. Mistake rectified, I quickly found the tower block.

I walked up the steps to reception, pleased that she at least lived in one of the buildings with open access facilities in it so that there was also a twenty four hour reception desk. I made my way over to it, slowly, suddenly incredibly nervous.

The building appeared to be quite busy. People were coming and going constantly and there was a bit of a queue at the desk.

While I waited, I glanced around the foyer, noticing the snack area and the soft seating off to one side.

A couple were sitting there, and I could tell they were heavily into each other. He was leaning into her neck and she was giggling and pushing him away in a playful way which discouraged nothing.

It came as a bit of a shock when the girl sat up and I realised it was Casey.

* * *

I admit it. I saw red, although even in my anger, I didn't really understand why. She was my step-sister, and renewed closeness or not we hadn't sworn undying love or anything. She actually had a right to be with whoever she wanted…didn't she?

Yeah…Like I'm going to take _that_ lying down!

I straightened, walked over to the seating area.

"Nice, Casey. Classy. Why don't you sell tickets? You'd make a fortune in Soho."

Casey's eyes widened almost to the size of dinner plates.

"Derek?"

"Yeah. Hi Sis." I threw the rucksack at her. "Bye Sis!"

And with that I turned tail and walked back out of the door.

She followed me.

"Der-ek!"

I ignored her as I made my way down the steps. Casey ran and she must have jumped several, because she landed beside me. Since when did she get so…athletic? (Dancing does not count. This was more ninja-like.)

"Stop!" She ordered grabbing my arm.

"Why?" I asked carrying on walking.

"What are you doing here?" she was having to run to keep up.  
"Playing Father Christmas for Nora. What does it look like?"

"I meant what are you doing in England?"

I glanced at her, trying to ignore the way her hair fell to her shoulders and the fire in her blue eyes.

"Hockey tour remember?"  
She gasped. "Your hockey tour was to London? Why didn't you tell me? That's great!"

I scoffed, still walking away from her.

"Yeah…sure."  
"Der-ek. Stop. Talk to me. What _is_ your problem?"

But before I could answer, a third voice piped up.

"Hi Case! You didn't have to come looking for me. Is everything alright? Wow! Who's this?"

Casey took a few seconds before she acknowledged the girl who had suddenly appeared.

"Oh hi Willow. This is Derek."

Pause.

"Derek…as in…"  
Casey nodded. "Yeah. As in my brother."


	24. Old Peculiar

I was uncomfortable and as I opened my eyes I blearily realised why. My head was resting on a cold tiled floor which smelled like bleach.

Great! Another night worshipping the porcelain god.

I sat myself up and rested against the side of the bath, blinking to try and focus. The light was on and I surveyed my surroundings carefully. I could smell vomit, but my own clothes appeared to be fine and so did the bathroom, so I must have made it to the toilet in time.

That was nothing sort of a miracle.

The room was unfamiliar to me, but that meant nothing, because everything was unfamiliar to me in London. I'd only been here…I checked my watch…eighteen hours.

Evidently, it was 2am. I frowned trying to piece together the last few hours. I could remember the early evening, but as the evening went on so the memories got shorter – and foggier.

* * *

_Earlier:_

"Oh hi Willow. This is Derek."

Pause.

"Derek…as in…"

Casey nodded. "Yeah. As in my brother."

I jerked my head round to scowl at my _step-_sister. Willow didn't notice, she was talking and I quickly realised that she was a motor-mouth when excited. In fact, she could give Rosie a run for her money.

"Oooh. Derek! Finally! I've heard so much about you. What are you doing in London? Casey didn't tell me you were coming over. Casey, you didn't tell me he was coming over. When did you arrive? How long are you here for? Where are you staying? Have you met James yet?"

If I wasn't so pissed off, I would have laughed.

"Breathe, Willow." Casey said to her friend.

"Okay I will. He's coming with us tonight though, right? I mean I will get to grill him for information later."

Casey looked uncomfortable.

Like she didn't want me to come with _them_ tonight.

I had absolutely no idea where they were going, but if Casey wanted me to stay away…

"Sure. Where are we going?" I replied, firing a patent-pending Venturi smirk at her. Willow blushed. I got the impression that didn't happen very easily.

"We're going for a curry and then a club. You in?" Her voice was slightly accented and tried to remember where in England Casey had said she came from. Yorkshire I think. Casey had spent Christmas there.  
"Definitely."

Before Casey could object, a tall dark, and yeah I admit it, good looking guy came up.

"Case? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Jay. Nothing that a change in the law on fratricide wouldn't fix." Casey said, pointedly avoiding my eyes.

"I got the rucksack."

I looked down at his hands and saw the bag I had brought from Canada. James, for it could only be him, frowned. Casey curled an eyebrow.

"Christmas presents. From Nora." I explained.

My step-sister's eyes brightened and she smiled.

"From Mom?"

"You can open them later. Let's go back to your room, Case. We can drop the bag off and set off for the restaurant." Willow suggested.

And that was how I ended up spending my first Saturday Night in London, England: With two complete strangers, one of whom I was fairly sure was banging Casey, and the girl herself; my step-sister.

The girl I would roll over and die for...just so long as _she_ didn't ask me to.

* * *

I can't honestly say I was the life and soul of the party. In fact, I was barely an observer. The restaurant was authentic rather than fashionable and Willow told me in a whisper that they knew a cousin of the owner. I sat next to Willow, and James sat next to Casey, whispering in her ear. The guy was getting on my nerves.

"How long have you known?" Casey said cutting across my conversation with Willow.

"Known what?"

"That you were coming to London."

I shrugged.

"Since Christmas."  
She scowled. Okay, I guess knowing that I was coming for six or more weeks and not telling her was a little unfair. Although it would matter less if she wasn't such a control freak.

"Nice Derek." She said eventually, her tone cold and not at all like the letters and emails we had exchanged. I shrugged again and downed my pint of beer. (Colder than I had expected it to be – I guess warm British beer is a myth.)

James watched me, assessing me. So far he hadn't said anything to me directly, but he had been party to my tantrum in the foyer of Casey's building. He didn't look impressed.

But then I wasn't impressed that he had wormed his way into Casey's bed.

I wasn't staring, but I could tell both their hands were on the seat between them, and I suspected they were joined.

"How's your Korma?" Willow asked pleasantly. Overly pleasantly. My eyes caught hers and I noticed an intelligence I hadn't expected. Something clicked. The fawning and gushing was an act. Willow was trying to distract me and diffuse the tension.

She should just give up. I was seriously looking forward to pushing James' teeth to the back of his throat.

Maybe my trip to England wasn't as wasted as I had thought.

I hadn't answered Willow and she asked again.

"Derek. How's your Korma?"

"My Karma? Fucking peachy." I grouched.

Silence and I noticed both the girls were biting their lips with restrained laughter.

"What?"  
"Willow asked how your curry was, Derek, not your emotional state." Casey interjected.

"McDonald, I've been in this freaking country less than twenty four hours. It's not my fault I can't understand Yorkshire." I turned my head to Willow. "No offence."

"None taken." She beamed back.

"How was the flight?" James unexpectedly asked.

I groaned inwardly. This was turning out to be one of the most awkward meals of my life. It was like meeting the accountant fiancée of your ex-girlfriend. Next thing he'd be offering to look over my dividends for me.

"We took off. We landed." I motioned to the waiter to bring me another pint.

"Der-ek!" Casey objected to my response. "Don't be rude."

I sighed. "What I meant was it was uneventful."

"You could have phrased it better."  
"Casey. I'm a hockey player, not the Poet Laureate. Unlike you, I don't write emails about the sunrise over Heathrow airport."

Our eyes met as I reminded her that we had been corresponding since I had last seen her. She looked away.

My beer arrived and I tucked in. This was my third pint of something called 'Old Peculiar'. It was nice if a bit heavier than my usual beers. I started to see the appeal of British beers.

Willow leaned across and whispered in my ear.

"I'd watch it with the OP if I were you. It has a nasty after kick. They make it near my home up north. Even the hardiest of guys tend to stop after two pints. I can only manage a one." I looked surprised. Willow didn't strike me as an ale-drinker. I examined the dark liquid carefully. It didn't taste strong. I took another sip.

James raised an eyebrow, amusement tugging at his lips. I took a long glug.

Across the table, Casey blew out a breath and became fascinated with her curry.

I was annoying her.

Good. If in doubt return to your comfort zone.

Mine was just under Casey McDonald's skin.

* * *

When we had finished the meal we left the restaurant and made for the club. James seemed to be keeping Casey away from me as if he was worried I'd attack her or something. After his casual enquiry regarding the flight, he didn't speak another two words to me for the rest of the evening. And that suited me just fine.

Willow latched herself onto me. She wriggled her hand through my arm and made me look like I was some beau taking his girl for a Sunday stroll in the park. But I didn't have a problem with Willow, so I didn't shake her off. She reminds me of Rosie a lot, so we settled into talking quite easily.

Casey and James walked behind us, whispering; their head close together. They were arguing about something, but I couldn't hear what. As if to distract me, my partner turned to me.

"Don't mind them. They aren't arguing about you. Why are _you_ and Casey fighting, Derek?"

I looked taken aback.

"We always fight. I thought Casey told you that."

"No. You always bicker. This is a proper fight. Why?"  
"I don't know." I answered honestly.

Strolling, or even just plain walking along the street was not easy now. I was jet-lagged, I was drunk (seriously, after just three pints), and I needed a long piss. I contemplated using an alley, but I wasn't sure of the law over here and Casey would bust a blood vessel if I attempted it. Fortunately, we soon reached the club and I made straight for the toilet. Mission accomplished I emerged from there and made for the bar.

And that was sort of where my memory ran out.

Sitting on the bathroom floor later that evening, I rubbed hard at my hair and temples.

What had happened next?

It came in flashes.

* * *

"I'm impressed." Willow's voice said. "Three pints of OP followed by a double jack and coke."

"Derek. Slow down." Casey nagged.

I did the opposite.

Her objection was hypocritical. My strait-laced step-sister was on her fourth drink of the night.

* * *

"Dance with me Derek." Willow urged.

I think I stood up and my legs gave way. I really couldn't remember exactly, but I stumbled and Willow caught me, laughing.

"Never underestimate the power of OP, my friend. Well I guess the dance is out of the question." She perched herself next to me. "How about you open your heart up and tell me how you really feel about Casey?" I spun my head round to look for my step-sister, but she and James had disappeared somewhere. That figured.

I sipped my latest drink. "I feel nothing about Casey." I managed to form the words to say.

Willow's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "Really? Interesting."

"Why? What has she said about me?"

"You mean other than that you are an …"

"…obnoxious jerk. Yeah, yeah. Stuck record already."

"She said nothing." Casey's friend leaned away from me to look at the crowds.

* * *

My final memory of the night was a whirl of sensations – a predominant one being nausea. I couldn't focus on anything because the room was spinning, but I did hear voices.

"I don't fucking believe this Wils. I've never seen a pair like it. Couldn't you have got him to rein in a bit?"  
"Ha! And what about you sunshine? Failed in your duty of care too, didn't you?"

"Can we just get on with this and go? I've got to pick Mel up from the station early tomorrow and I'd like some sleep."

"Where shall we leave them?"

"Just here will do."  
"If I get an irate brunette on my doorstep early tomorrow morning, I'm sending her to you."  
"Feel free. I won't be there."

I felt my restraints disappear and then felt my body fall onto softness. Something bounced beside me and then the voices were gone.

* * *

**AN: I'd like to confess to a crime which I committed in the course of writing this chapter. I made Derek drink several pints of the world's best real ale, and then made him vomit. Words fail me.**


	25. The Morning After The Night Before

**AN: Avoid eating during this chapter.**

* * *

There was a little girl in pink bunny ears and a tutu. She was spinning round and round; the movement made me dizzy and slightly nauseous. I saw her duck and dive and spin and twist.

I just wanted her to stop.

I moved closer to tell her to stand still and as I did so, I saw it was Marti.

She grinned at me and shook her head and the spinning resumed, and when I looked at her face again, it was Edwin I saw.

Edwin, in pink bunny ears and a tu-tu.

The nausea grew worse, the bile rose and I…

…woke up.

I sat up and tried to focus on my surroundings.

At least I appeared to be in my own room, and my clothes were still on. But why did I wake up suddenly like that?

_Oh Shit!_

I bolted for the bathroom, slammed open the door, yanked the toilet seat up and, holding my hair to one side, vomited noisily into the bowl.

"Been there. Done that." A voice said weakly from my left. I coughed, grabbing for some toilet paper to wipe my mouth and turned.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Derek, my voice hoarse. He looked as green as I felt.

"Would you believe me if I said I have absolutely no idea?"

Before I could reply bile rose again and I knelt to lean over the toilet again. There was a pause for a second and then I felt fingers scraping my hair away from my face.

"I got it." He murmured somewhere by my ear.

I wasn't in a position to argue as I was sick again while Derek held my hair out of the way.

Eventually, the vomiting died down and I cleaned myself up, flushed the toilet and leaned back against the bath panel next to Derek.

"Do you think there was something wrong with the curry?" I suggested.

He laughed weakly. "Casey. Even if the curry was riddled with bacteria, it would have had no effect. The volume of alcohol you consumed tonight will have sterilised your stomach. You're going to have a hangover tomorrow." He shifted to make himself comfortable. "Since when did you start drinking anyway?"

I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't – not often. A glass of wine once a month maybe."

"How much did you drink tonight?"

"No idea."

"Well I saw you drink at least six rum and cokes."

I frowned. "I think there was some Southern Comfort in there somewhere too."

"Why?"

"Why what?"  
"Why the sudden binge drinking?"  
"I was _not_ binge drinking!" I protested. "I was…stressed."

"Because of me?"

"No." I lied.

"Ha! I drove you to drink!!!!" he said gleefully, and then winced and grabbed his head.

"You did not!" I picked at the bath mat under me. "I'm feeling the pressure of university."

"I thought everything was going great. You said in your letters…"

"I know what I said in my letters!" I snapped, wishing the room would stop spinning – and that I could stop thinking about the long snail-mails that Derek and I had been sending to each other. The current frequency was one long letter per week. I had a feeling it would have been more had it not been for the delivery delay.

"Just admit it, Casey. You couldn't handle me being here so you got drunk."  
I gave up protesting. But I confirmed nothing.

"And what's _your_ excuse?"

He closed his eyes and leaned back again.

"Jet lag."  
I laughed. "Admit it Derek. I drove you to drink too." He didn't answer. "What did George promise you if you came to see me and delivered the presents?"

"A six pack and a tank full of gas."

"You're cheap."

"You're blurred."

I frowned. "Blurred?"  
"Yeah. I need to lie down."

It occurred to me that I wasn't comfortable either. But at least the nausea had gone.

"How did you get here? My room, I mean."

"I honestly don't know, but I think your boyfriend had something to do with it."

"What boyfriend?"

"_Jay_." He said it in a stupid way.

"Grow up Derek. We've had this discussion. James is just a friend."

"A friend who necks with you and holds your hand."  
"We were _not_ necking!" I snapped. James had been whispering in my ear. I guess it must have looked like necking from where Derek was standing.

"But you _were_ holding hands…?"

Guilty as charged. I tried how to explain that it was just the way James and I were with each other. But Derek had never had a "girl" friend.

"You wouldn't understand." I said standing up.  
"Try me." He snapped back, mirroring my actions.

He tried to face up to me, but we were both swaying too much. The humour of the situation hit me and I giggled.

"Maybe we should save this discussion for when we're both sober." I suggested.

Derek scratched his head, a small smile on his lips too.

"Yeah. If I make a sudden movement, I'll go ass over tit."

"Nice, D. Where are you staying?"

"South London."

"You won't get back there tonight."

We both looked into my room through the open door. Months ago, Rosie had persuaded me to ditch the single bed I had been allocated and buy a double so that I could host sleepovers. (of the BFF variety). It left very little floor space.

"I guess you're staying here then." I said, moving to the bathroom cabinet. "I've got a spare toothbrush."

"Casey." Derek said. "I…"

"Derek. The only other place you can stay tonight is the foyer downstairs. And if I let you do that you'll get arrested for vagrancy, or loitering with intent or something."

He shrugged. "Are you sure you want me in your bed?"

"No. But, it won't exactly be the first time we've slept together, will it?" I held out the brush and paste.

He took the new toothbrush from me and began to brush his teeth. I followed suit.

Five minutes later, I slipped into my bed, now dressed in my most concealing pyjamas next to Derek in his t-shirt and boxers.

We said nothing else as he placed his cell phone on the night stand and I switched off the light.

In the darkness, as I was just dozing off his voice came to me.

"How come it isn't loitering with intent when I'm sleeping in your bed?"

* * *

It was the beeping of Derek's cell phone that woke me the next morning. He stretched the arm that had been curled around my waist and picked the phone up, silencing it by pressing a key.

"7.15?" I asked, stunned. "7.15 am on a Sunday morning? Are you insane?"

"I'm in your bed. I have to be. However, in this case, it's actually the coach that's insane. The bus leaves at 8.15 am for our first practice."

"You could have warned me. I could have slept under the pillow or something. My head is bad enough as it is."

"Yeah. Mine too. You got any painkillers?"

I sighed and sat up in bed, untangling myself from Derek in the process as I reached for the drawer and my box of ibuprofen.

I was used to waking up in his arms by now. The aftermath of my father's death had meant usually neither of us noticed when it happened, although, for some reason, I was hyper aware of it now.

Derek swallowed the two little pills and then threw back the covers.

"Do you know how to get there?" I asked laying back on the bed.

"I'll get the tube." He was pulling his jeans on.

"No offense, Derek but your sense of direction is crap. Hail a cab. It's Sunday, it will be quicker."

"Thanks." He grabbed the rest of his belongings including the empty rucksack and turned back to me. We watched each other for a moment.

"Will I…?" I started and stopped. I looked down. I wanted to know if this was goodbye. He had no reason to come back. He had delivered the presents, but he stepped towards me.

"The practice finishes at 12. Then we have an official reception till 6pm. I'll be back sometime after then. I think Nora is expecting me to watch you open the presents so that I can tell her how you looked."

I nodded and he left.

* * *

Willow tapped tentatively on my door at lunchtime. By now I was up, showered, dressed and lazily trying to study. She seemed surprised that I was alone.

"Where's Derek?"

"Gone." I answered shortly, not elaborating or looking up from my work. I had vague recollections of her trying to flirt with him last night. (Not seriously, I knew she had only been trying to wind me up.)

"Gone where?"

"I dismembered him, stuck him in a suitcase and left him at Euston station. Why?"

My friend flopped onto my newly made bed.

"Ha ha. Except knowing you two there's always a chance you're telling the truth." She smoothed her hand over the covers.

"So did you wake up on the same bed together this morning?" Her use of the word 'on' rather than 'in' and the way she said it made me realise how Derek had ended up in my room. Derek had been right. James had dumped him there, and he had had help.

"Nope."

She looked confused.

I smiled knowingly. "Oh I know you and James dumped us in here on the bed last night, but by the time I came round, Derek was in the bathroom throwing up."

"Yuck!"

I chuckled. "I found him when I went to vomit."

"You did drink a lot…both of you."

"Not so much that I'd let anything happen between me and Derek. Why did you dump him with me anyway?"

"Duh! He's _your_ step-brother Casey. Where else were we going to dump you're your room is the closest thing to home that he had. Anyway, what _have_ you done with him?"

"He's gone. Hockey practice."

"Oh." She looked resigned. Willow thought that Derek wouldn't be back and that she had missed her opportunity to interfere. "I guess you aren't in the mood for quiz night in the bar, tonight?"

"Nope. Too tired and I'm busy tonight."

She nodded and stood up to leave. "Busy?"

"Derek's coming back."

Her eyes widened. I shrugged.

"I have to open my Christmas presents. It makes sense for him to be there."

She smiled. "Tell me. Where _did_ Derek sleep last night? After you both emerged from the bathroom."

"Go away Willow."

She left my room grinning.

I didn't see James that day. I remembered after a while that Mel was in London on business so James would be with him all day.

Now that I had chased Willow away and I knew that James wouldn't be coming to see me, I closed my books and wandered over to my bed to lie down.

One set of pillows still smelled of that stuff Derek puts on his hair; not too strong, but unmistakeable. I chuckled. I seemed to remember the product was called something stupid like "sex hair".

I curled up under my comforter and lay for a while contemplating the week ahead. After tonight, would Derek just go? Or would he come back later in the week?

Part of me wanted to show him my adopted home. Maybe I should suggest it.

And maybe he would even go for it.

Provided we could stop arguing long enough.


	26. The Gift

"Cutting it fine." Tom said as I climbed on the bus. Actually, I had made it with ten minutes to spare, and had managed to change my clothes and grab a few things from our room. Casey's cab idea was a good one.

"I'm here aren't I?" I flopped into the seat beside him  
"In body. How's your spirit?" He smirked.

"Not sure but my fucking head kills."

It appeared everyone had heeded the coach's warning, because we were all present and correct and the doors to the bus closed early.

"Why have you got a bad head?"  
"British beer and the step-sister from hell."

Tom shook his head. "And there was me thinking you didn't come home last night because you were busy tapping it."  
I glared at him.

"I thought we agreed a long time ago that phrases like that were dangerous when applied to Casey and that facial elements might get rearranged."

Tom leaned towards me.

"You do the protective brother thing really well at times D. But I know you. So where did you spend last night?"  
"Bathroom floor."

"Whose?"

"Casey's."

He raised an eyebrow. "All night?"

The bus lurched as it pulled away and I ignored him, turning to look out of the opposite window.

* * *

**Did you make the bus in time?**

Casey's text came shortly after the bus started negotiating the streets. I was surprised but then I remembered that as we were local to each other again, texting was no longer a luxury."

**Me: Yes. Cab was gud idea. Go back 2 bed.**

**C: Can't. I'm awake now. I'll study instead.**

**Me: Keener.**

**C: Moron.**

* * *

For some reason the day passed very slowly. The practice went as well as could be expected and then, showered and changed we were escorted to the reception and treated to several more hours of social tedium. At five, however, coach took pity on us and sprung us, telling us to chill out but behave.

I returned with Tom to our room.

"Fancy a club?" He asked, evidently ignoring the fact I was packing my rucksack.

"Sorry I've got plans." Fortunately, my hangover had all but disappeared, although I wouldn't be touching anything stronger than cola for a while.

"With Casey?" he sat on my bed and chuckled. "Another night on her bathroom floor?"  
"We never got around to opening her Christmas presents. I promised I'd go back tonight."

He leaned forward and reached into my rucksack, pulling out the wash-bag I had just packed.

"And you're staying the night?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. Being prepared. It's quite a distance across town and we don't have early morning practice because of the traffic."

He stood up. "Well. If you're off to see Case, I'm going to go and find the others to see if they want to visit a club. Have a good evening."  
"You too." I watched as he left the room. After a second or two he came back in, and crossed to his own nightstand.

He withdrew something from the drawer and threw it at me.

"Be prepared, Derek." He said and left the room. I looked down at my hands and saw a box of condoms.

I groaned audibly.

For a few minutes I pottered around, throwing things into the bag, and hit the bathroom for a pit stop. Tom was just leaving when I returned and he gave me a thumbs up.

"See you tomorrow." He said.

"Or tonight." I qualified.

He grinned. "Just because you might not get lucky doesn't mean I can't."

* * *

She was waiting for me, and trying desperately hard not to look as though she was. It was like a repeat of the previous night, but instead of spotting my step-sister necking with some Brit, she was sitting, feet up on the sofas in the foyer, reading The Evening Standard.

Wordlessly I crossed the space and chose the seat beside her.

"Whoever he is, he isn't worth it." I stated.

She lowered the paper. "I know that. This is a pity party."

I chuckled.

"Have you eaten?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Not since lunch, why?"  
"I don't have any food in. There's a late night Sainsbury's round the corner. We could go get some stuff for pasta?"

"And chips?"

She sighed. "They call them crisps here, Derek. Don't they teach you anything about nutrition in your hockey training?"

"Yes. Believe me. _Your_ lectures are more thorough. Shall we go?"

There was something about Casey which was different and it became more and more apparent as we walked along. She looked the same, spoke the same (excepting the odd British phrase and intonation which had crept into her speech), and I'm sure little had changed in her life philosophy. The difference was in the warmth and humour as we teased each other.

After a while when she didn't seem aware of the change, I wondered if this was new, or whether it had always been there and I had just not noticed it.

"I have this new pasta dish." Her voice broke through my thoughts. "You like mushrooms and cheese?" She asked. I nodded.

"Cool. I think you'll like it."

We had arrived at the store now, and she entered the florescent brightness eagerly, picking up a blue plastic basket on her way in. She moved to the vegetable section and picked up a red onion, courgettes, and mushrooms, looking to me for approval. It jarred slightly. I had never been comfortable telling Casey what to do.

We moved to the dairy aisle and she chose hard cheese and crème fraiche and then a freshly prepared garlic bread. In the frozen aisle she picked up a tub of ice cream and in the dry goods, a packet of pasta.

I ignored the roll of her eyes as I picked up a pack of potato chips, but laughed as she tossed the small cardboard cube marked 'Terry's Chocolate Orange' after them.

"What?" Her voice defensive.  
I shook my head. "Nothing."

Casey paid with her credit card and I helped her bag up the purchases, taking the heaviest carriers in my own grip as we turned to leave.

In the early days of college, I had occasionally dated girls and they had invited me back to their dorms and cooked dinner. Sometimes I was part of the shopping process, and sometimes I wasn't. Tonight I didn't feel like I was having dinner with my step-sister. I felt like I was on a date. There was a pressure to please her, to not put my foot in it. There was a desire to enjoy her company and for her to enjoy mine. There was a need for this to not be the last time I saw her. I had been through this before.

But it had never mattered like it did tonight.

"You hungry?" Casey asked as we walked.

"Nearly six years and you still need to ask?" I raised an eyebrow. Casey laughed.

"I was being polite. You think I don't know you by now?"

Our eyes met, and I swear if I wasn't carrying three bright orange shopping bags, I would have made a move.

"If you really knew me babe, you'd talk less and walk faster." I grouched. Casey chuckled again and I think we were both glad our hands were full.

It appeared the rest of her dorm was deserted, because we had the kitchen to ourselves. Casey disappeared off to her room to fetch her kitchen "box", stating that she never used any of the equipment provided, and she daren't leave the stuff she had purchased in the kitchen cupboard because it would sprout legs and walk.

I pulled up a stool and leant against the counter watching her.

She retrieved the chopping board and knife from the box and began to prepare the vegetables, washing and chopping the onion and the courgettes, and then slicing the mushrooms. She set the time on the oven for the garlic bread and when she saw me looking idle passed me a grater and a lump of cheese.

"It's hard, I know, but, make yourself useful."

She heated water for the pasta, put the garlic bread into the over and then started to fry the vegetables. She looked like she knew what she was doing.

Casey had always been a good cook and she inherited some of that ability from Nora. But Nora was a working mom with six children to take care of, and did not have the time to "cook". Nora heated up or cobbled together.

Casey was the cook of the household. I teased her about being a Casserole Casey, but she was far from a one dish, girl.

I wondered if there was anything she did badly, and then I remembered the boyfriends and other emotional situations. Casey's Achilles heel was how easily she trusted and the resulting hurt. And as I thought that, the overwhelming need to protect her surfaced again.

When the pasta was cooked, Casey drained it and tipped it into the pan with the cooked vegetables and mushrooms. She added chopped ham and the crème fraiche and finally the grated cheese. As I watched her season the dish with freshly ground black pepper, the smell was making my stomach sing. Without being asked, I washed the dishes up in the sink.

Casey grinned.

The oven beeped for the garlic bread and she dished the food onto two plates.

"Where did this recipe come from?" I asked, breaking a piece of the garlic bread.

"James. He doesn't cook much but he has a couple of decent dishes. That was one."

She said it quietly and looked at me in expectation as though she assumed I would react. But I was comfortable with how we were tonight, after yesterday's fit of pique. I just nodded and forked some of the pasta and sauce into my mouth.

"Okay. This one you can cook again." I said, grinning. "And I think you should get James to write his other recipes down too."

She rolled her eyes. "You and your stomach."

* * *

When we had washed up, and put all of Casey's things back in their storage box, we returned it to her room. I crossed to her music system and switched it on. She had tuned into a national but commercial station, and I like the song currently playing, so I left it on. In the meantime, Casey was staring at the pile of wrapped Christmas presents with a longing expression on her face.

"I'm impressed." I noted, bouncing onto her bed. "If I had to sit in a room staring at a pile of presents that I was technically allowed to open anytime I wanted, I would have done it by now."

She started to move them one by one to the bed.

"I promised I would wait."

"Yes you did." Our eyes met again in one of those unnerving moments.

And then she was climbing up beside me, and the movement of air brought her gentle perfume to my senses. Despite our shopping trip and cooking together, it was the first time I had been aware of her scent since I had woken with her tightly wrapped in my arms that morning.

I was seriously going to have to watch myself tonight.

"Hang on!" I suddenly remembered. "I'm supposed to be taking pictures." I went for my camera from my rucksack and returned to the bed. This time I settled further away from her so that I could focus easier; the camera and my own mind.

None of the presents was particularly heavy or bulky but they were all weighty in their own way.

Lizzie and Edwin had both bought Casey books. Lizzie's was the autobiography of a female eco-warrior. I knew Casey would love it because it was the story of a strong, independent woman – who just so happened to fall in love with one of the police officers who arrested her. Edwin's present was a 'How to make it big in Journalism' manual which Casey appeared really pleased with. That confused me. I hadn't realised that she had contemplated journalism as a career path as well.

Robbie sent her a large bar of Casey's favourite chocolate and Marti sent Casey a photo-frame. It was cute in a very Marti way. Made from purple craft foam with pink and yellow flowers and I knew that Casey wouldn't throw it away because it was obviously home-made. She might change the picture though. For some reason, my youngest sister had filled the frame with a picture of me.

Casey looked flustered and embarrassed. I tried very hard not to smirk.

But her face only got redder when I handed her Nora and Dad's present and she opened it.

I had known it was soft because I had shoved it in and out of various bags as I was packing to come over to England. Nora had done her usual careful job of wrapping the gift, adding ribbons and bows and matching tag and as Casey peeled her way through the layers, she revealed tissue paper underneath the normal paper.

So whatever the gift was, it was delicate.

I clicked away, taking a couple of photos of her ripping the paper. I didn't get a photo of her pulling the present free of its paper, however, because I was too busy trying not to drop the camera, or reveal the effect the present was having on me.

It was rose pink. It was lace and satin. And I was most definitely, _not_ supposed to have seen it.

"It's a camisole." She said quietly.

I decided the best course of action was wit.

"What happened to the rest of it?" I placed the camera on the side safely. I wasn't taking anymore photographs.

The sight of Casey, in her close fitting top holding the delicate object up to her chest was disturbing. "Is that so you can snag a royal?"

"Der-ek!" She sounded annoyed but she was still blushing. I had spotted something else in the discarded papers and finding an inner strength from somewhere I reached out and hooked the little bundle of pink lace that she had missed with my finger.

Matching panties. They weren't very big.

Casey's eyes widened and she tried to snatch them from me. I swept my hand above my head and she stretched trying to reach them.

"Derek, give them back."  
"You want them. Come get them."

I was on dangerous ground, but as normal with Casey just because I know something isn't a good idea, doesn't mean I stop.

Two things happened simultaneously.

Casey shouted "Derek. Give me back my panties!"

And there was a knock at the door.

Almost immediately, an unfamiliar male voice from the other side of the door gasped and then said quietly. "I'll come back tomorrow."

Casey leapt off the bed, flew to the door, wrenched it open and shouted. "He's my _brother!_"

Even sitting on her bed, I caught the response.

"Whatever floats your boat."


	27. DV and the DVD

When I was fifteen, I fell down the stairs at school in front of half of my year group. I landed spectacularly on some guy's butt. I was mortified. I thought I couldn't be any more embarrassed…until the following day when the Principal announced what had happened to the _whole_ school – naming me.

My current situation was ten times worse, not least because the _group_ of people who were outside of my door was large. They were some of the people from my Halls who I knew fairly well, just not as closely as Willow. Sometimes when Willow had other plans I would go out with them in their group. There had been several evenings when I had enjoyed a laugh and a joke with them. I counted them among my friends.

Unfortunately, all of them had no doubt heard my panty comment.

The embarrassment was excruciating, but what galled me most was that if I had just kept quiet, I might have been the subject of a brief 'I hear Casey McDonald got laid last night' rumour.

Thanks to my need to explain, the rumour would now be a 'Casey McDonald got laid by her brother' _"fact"_.

I slammed the door shut and slid down to the floor.

Derek watched with amusement from my bed. He was still holding the little panties in his hand, swinging them round on his finger, one eyebrow raised.

I snapped.

Scrambling to my feet, I crossed the room. I jumped at him, pushing him back on the bed and held his arms above his head as I stole the panties from his grip. My prize won, I eased off him, and turned away only for him to sit up and grab me, rolling us over so that he was above me, his hands beginning their treacherous descent to the places where I am most ticklish.

"Don't Derek." I pleaded. His eyes glinted as he pounced.

Five minutes and much _pained_ giggling on my part later, he finally stopped, holding my hands away so that I couldn't hit him, and pinning my legs so that I couldn't knee him somewhere painful.

"Why is tickling you so satisfying?" He mused, his breath brushing my cheek.

"You reek of garlic." I said in my most matter-of-fact tone. He sat back in a hurry and breathed onto his own hand. A horrified look spread across his face and in an instant he was pulling a wash-bag from his rucksack and making for the bathroom.

Grinning, I climbed off the bed and followed him, watching as he started to clean his teeth.

I couldn't resist.

"…_You had one eye in the mirror_

_As you watched yourself gavotte_

_And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner_

_They'd be your partner, and_

_You're so vain_

_You probably think this song is about you_

_You're so vain_

_I'll bet you think this song is about you_

_Don't you? Don't you?"_

I leaned against the doorpost as I sang. Derek flicked his wet toothbrush at me and I laughed.

"That's better." He said, pausing mid-brush. I frowned.

"What is?"

"Laughing at me rather than sitting on the floor moping."

"I was not…" My reply was cut off by my cell phone ringing. I turned on my heel and stomped back to the nightstand to retrieve it.

"Hello?" I snapped.

"Hi Casey. It's Mom!"

I sat down heavily on the bed, looking around for the camisole and panties. The camisole was lying on the comforter. The panties had disappeared.

"Hi Mom! How's everyone?"

As my parent filled me in on the comings and goings of our little home, I watched Derek emerge from the bathroom, without his wash-bag, and switch off the light. I pushed the mute button on the phone.

"What's with the wash-bag anyway?"

"Tom's cultivating a new friendship with some waitress he met. I said I'd vacate our room. I'm staying here tonight."

"Der-ek!" I protested.

In my ear, I could hear my mom prompting me for some response. I had zoned out for a while and I got flustered trying to get the mute off so that I could answer her.

"Sorry Mom. Derek needed reprimanding."

"Derek's there?"

"Yes. You wanted photos of me opening my presents remember?"

"Ooo…yes! What did you think?" My mom can be very giggly at times.

"Tell Liz and Ed I love the books, and I'll eat Robbie's chocolate while I read them. Did Marti use the craft kit I got her for her birthday to make the picture frame?"

"Yes. And she told me to tell you that you _must_ keep it beside your bed."

"I will. I might change the picture though."

Beside me on the bed, Derek chuckled and then whispered in my ear.

"Aw! Then you don't get to wake up and see my face every morning."  
"Thank heavens for small mercies."

"Casey? The presents?" Mom's voice reminded me. "What did you think of _our_ gift?"

I blushed again.

"A little warning not to open it in front of Derek might have been helpful."  
"Derek? Oh…" Mom got the message.

"Yes…Oh. Derek saw my _underwear_, Mom." I complained.

"Pft! I've seen your underwear before Casey. All granny panties and slingshot bras. That little pink creation is not Casey underwear. On a _hot_ girl, that outfit would need removing with my teeth."

I smacked him on the arm, frowning at him to remind him that I was on the phone to my mother – _his_ step-mother.

"Derek's seen your underwear before Casey." The woman herself echoed.

"Mother!"

Thank heavens she hadn't heard Derek's comment.

"Well he has. He does the laundry some times. Admittedly not as often as he should. Anyway, it wasn't _indecent_ lingerie, just pretty. I wouldn't buy you anything too risqué. I just thought it was time you started buying some more grown up underwear. Cotton panties are okay, but they don't make you feel special."

"I know, Mom. It's lovely. Really pretty and soft. And you're right. I should buy a few more feel-good sets."

Derek's eyes widened and he stuck his head under a pillow.

"It's just…you know Derek."

Mom laughed. "Oh boy. What did he do?"

I gulped. _Well mom by now the whole campus probably thinks I'm sleeping with my sibling, but hey! What the heck!_

"Oh the usual. Embarrassed the hell out of me."

"Tell him I said to behave."  
I turned to Derek, lifted the pillow. "Mom says to 'behave'." I parroted.

"Tell her to stop sending you bits of lace then."

* * *

"Casey." Derek said. He was lying on the bed, his head propped up on his hand. "Just what the hell are ya doin'?"

What I was doing was searching under the bed and its surrounds for my missing panties.

"I'm looking for my…lower garments."

He laughed. "They'll turn up."

"Derek. The cleaners come into my room tomorrow afternoon, I would rather they didn't find my panties hanging from the light fitting." Two sets of eyes looked up to the ceiling. "They think I'm nice and respectable."

"Nice and respectable is boring, Casey. Live a little."

I straightened and put a hand on my hip. "So let me get this straight. You think I should get a reputation? Make a name for myself? Lose my virginity. Maybe, sleep around?" I looked at him quizzically.

I knew Derek. There was absolutely no way he would ever encourage me to have sex. I shouldn't, but I knew about certain "rules" Derek had enforced in high school. When I had split up with Truman, I had asked why he had never pushed me to go 'all the way' with him. He told me he valued his anatomy too much.

Apparently, Derek took any guy who expressed an interest in me to one side and made certain promises.

I should have been angry at his interference. But, strangely I wasn't. I liked being in a relationship without pressure. Of course, it shortened the length of the relationships, and that hurt sometimes. But afterwards, my anger at Derek always melted into a kind of reluctant gratitude.

"Purlease, Casey. I just ate." Derek broke into my thoughts.

"What's the matter, Derek?" I purred. "Have a problem thinking of me as a sexual being with needs?"

His jaw dropped. Then he rallied.

"Casey. Just sit the fuck down and let's watch the DVD. I don't need you throwing yourself at me tonight."

"I never…"

"Sit down!"

The DVD was James Bond. Derek had chosen it.

I wondered if this was someone Derek aspired to be.

* * *

The room was dark. The lights were off, and the only illumination was the flickering of lights on the wall as the pictures changed on the television. We sat on my bed, pillows stacked behind us, a bowl of potato chips, and the chocolate orange in between us. The DVD was surprisingly good, and I found myself unexpectedly comfortable.

About half an hour into the film, Derek had shifted on the bed and stretched his arm around me, pulling me into his side.

"Thanks." He said quietly.

I frowned up at him.

"For what?"  
"For not making a fuss about me staying."  
It was something about the way he wouldn't look at me.

"Your staying has nothing to do with Tom, does it?" I said, suddenly understanding.

He glanced at me. "No."

I fixed my gaze on the screen in front of me.

"We need to get better at this."

"Better at what?"  
"Talking when we're face to face. I can write long missives via email or paper, or have an in depth conversation so long as the light's off, but if I turned the light on now, all honesty would be gone."  
He snorted, but there was a smile on his face and he squeezed me closer.

"That we're talking at all, Case. That's a minor miracle in its self."

And he was right.

When the film was over, we got ready for bed, and eventually I climbed in beside him again.

"What time do you need to be up?" I asked, learning my lesson from last time.

Derek rolled onto his side.

"I don't have to be back until 10am. So I guess leave here 9.00 at the latest."

"I have a lecture at 9, so you'll have to leave at 8.30am."

"No problem."

"Derek, will I…are you…" I couldn't work out how to phrase the sentence.

"I have a game tomorrow night." He said quietly. "But I'm free the day after. If…"

"Yes." I said.

And the arrangements were made. Tomorrow night I would sleep alone. The following night he would come back.

Derek didn't wait until I was asleep to scoop me close to him. He did it as soon as the lights went out. But, that was the closest we got.

The only thing I wouldn't have wanted my mother to see at all that night was the moment when he slid a hand under his pillow to fluff it up, and chuckled unexpectedly, his hidden hand suddenly pulling out from under the pillow a pair of pink lace and satin panties.


	28. The Game

The good thing about cities with underground systems…it doesn't matter if it rains. This, I had come to realise was especially important in London.

When I left Casey the following morning, the weather was grim and I resigned myself to getting wet. I hurried down the steps of her building and round the corner towards the tube station. Casey was more fortunate, although she left at the same time as me, her journey would take her two buildings down to the main university building.

The tube journey was long and warm which was both good and bad. Bad, because it was still rush hour and it took me three goes before I managed to even get on a train, and good because once on, the warmth dried my clothes out, and the long journey gave me time to think.

My relationship with Casey had reached uncharted territory. Not only were we now emailing, and writing to each other, but, provided the lights stayed off and we didn't look at each other's faces we could actually _talk_ honestly to each other. Screwy, I know, but it worked.

We had woken up entangled again. Not just me holding her, but our arms and legs knotted together in a way that a casual observer might make more of that was the truth…wasn't it? It was hard to classify _us_ anymore. There was a time where the idea of waking so close to me would have brought Casey out in a rash.

This morning, she had smiled at me. It seemed a genuine smile and I had put a hand up to comb her hair with my fingers.

"What time's your game tonight?"  
"Seven."

I looked at her thoughtfully. "I'll be a wreck afterwards. It's the first competition level one. That's why I won't come over."

She nodded.

"It's open to the public. Why don't you see if James and Willow want to come? I'll leave you the details."  
Suddenly, it mattered whether she was there.

"I'll think about it." She paused. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, I largely have the day off."

"You want to do something?"

"Yeah. Sleep."

She bit her lip.

"I'm kidding Casey. What did you have in mind?"

"Some sightseeing? You've been here two days and all you're seeing is the underground system and my bedroom."

I laughed. "Yeah and I saw some sights here last night." I commented, referring to her underwear.

"Der-ek." She muttered and blushed. Sometimes I forgot she was my innocent step-sister.

* * *

When I got back to my own room, Tom was still asleep – and snoring. I had showered at Casey's, so I re-packed my rucksack ready for the following day, and then woke him up.

"Jesus Derek! What time is it?"

"Time you got up, or we'll miss the bus."

"What time did you roll in last night?" He asked and then glanced across at my still-untouched bed. He smirked. "I guess you didn't."

I shrugged. "Casey cooked. We watched a DVD."

My friend sat up and leaned on his knees. "I hate to break it to you, dude, but if you go any slower you'll be going backwards – and we'll be back in Ontario before you get to first base."

I flopped onto my own bed. "Not everyone treats their girls like a Happy Meal."

Tom frowned.

"Fast food with dipping sauce." I clarified.

He liked that…a lot.

When he had finished laughing, he threw back the covers on his bed and stood up. He was naked.

"For fucks sake Thomas, put some clothes on!"

I frowned. "What's with the leech marks?" His body was riddled with little sucker marks. Hickeys. (Most of them, though I wasn't looking too closely, most of them on his groin area. Ew!)

"The lovely Lisa." He said, scratching himself. "She's in training to be a nun."

I chuckled. "She told you that?"

"She kept shouting "Forgive me Father!" at the top of her voice."

I pulled a face. "Tell me you didn't listen to the 'I'm Catholic, I can't use a rubber' line."

"What do you think I am? Stupid?"

"I think you're a dog, Tom. And I'm glad Marti's too young to be of interest."

He cocked an eyebrow. "There's always Casey. She's definitely, FW."

"Hey. Charles Bronson*. Get in the fucking shower before I…"

"Okay, okay. I get the message."  


Practice.

Practice.

Lunch.

More Practice.

Game.

Like I said, the appeal of ice hockey as a career was wearing thin. I was in one of the most interesting cities in the world, itching to go take photographs, and I was stuck indoors. I might as well have been in Kingston.

Casey was right. I needed to get out and see a few sights.

If I was in Kingston, however, I wouldn't have woken up in my step-sister's bed. Or watched her blush as she opened the lingerie _our_ parents had sent her. As always when I thought of an embarrassed Casey, I smiled. She made herself out to be big and grown up and independent, but there were still many times a day when she was a hopeless innocent.

In a world where innocence is at a premium, I treasured every moment.

Tom's slap on the back woke me from my reverie and I finished pulling my shirt over my head and followed him out of the locker room towards the ice. These days I wasn't sick before big games. I guess when it means less the nerves decrease.

As the coach's huddle broke up and we skated towards our positions, one of my team mates slid beside me.

"You are fucking unbelievable, Venturi." I glanced up at him sharply, but his tone was amused rather than confrontational.

"What?"  
"We've only been in the damn country forty eight hours and you got chicks wearing your name!" He nodded to the stands.

My gaze followed his to the spectators.

Standing at the front rail, wearing a 'Q' hockey shirt over her sweater was Casey. She had pulled her hair up into a ponytail and as she turned round, the word 'VENTURI' was emblazoned across her back. Beside her, wearing a Queens scarf sat Willow.

I remembered the shirt. I bought it for her two Christmases ago to wind her up. I couldn't believe that she had brought it to England.

Nearby, Tom shook his head. He had overheard Sean.

"Sean, man. That's not a chick. That's _Casey_."

"Your sister?" Sean asked me.

"STEP." I said pointedly.

Sean shrugged. "Same difference."

I grinned.

"No. It _really_ isn't." I said, and skated off to my spot.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, we won. Surprisingly, however, the opposition were stronger than their lack of facilities implied. I rushed to the locker room to shower and change.

I was committed to going out with the rest of the squad tonight, but that didn't mean I couldn't go speak to Casey first.

She was waiting outside the dressing rooms with Willow and James. I hadn't spotted him earlier. I nodded to the Brits and smirked at Casey.

"I knew I bought you that shirt for a reason."  
"You bought me the shirt because you knew it would wind me up and I'd never wear it."  
I tilted my head slightly.

"Really. Coz you appear to have brought it to England."  
"I thought it might make good dusters."

She grinned.

I shrugged. "Your mom's Christmas present would be good for that too."

"I have plans for that." She said quietly - eventually raising her eyes to me.

Okay. She did not just say that.

Did she?

* * *

As nights out went, I was glad when that one was over. Evidently, it wasn't just the hockey I was growing out of. Getting shit-faced drunk in a strange city where you aren't sure of the laws is not ideal.

Spending half the night in the ER ain't too hot either.

_This_ time it was because Sean tripped on the stairs going into a nightclub and smashed his nose. He was half comatose before the incident and a broken nose and two black eyes didn't help. I was on my own trying to manoeuvre him into the cab as well. Mindful of the fact that the coach had threatened to ship home anyone who made him spend time in a British hospital, the rest of the squad had disappeared.

I hung around, because someone had to. The asshole couldn't see straight and needed help getting back to the dorms.

The local hospital patched him up and gave us leaflets about concussion. Fortunately, these days they don't require you to wake the casualty every half an hour. But they did recommend that someone stay in the room with him to make sure, in his current inebriated state, that he didn't inhale vomit or something. I decided to take him back to his dorm room and try and find his roommate.

Unfortunately, Sean and I arrived back at our accommodation block at the same time as the coach who had been having a civilised meal with his British counterpart. Coach helped me get Sean stretched out on his own bed, and then led me to the office he had been detailed to deliver a lengthy lecture and the damning verdict.

"Okay. Before I pack your ass off back to Canada, what happened, Venturi?" He asked, resting his chin on his hands which in turn were propped up on their elbows.

"He drank too much and tripped up some concrete stairs."

"Sounds like the stupid sonofa. Has he been to hospital?"

I nodded. "Broken nose, and possible concussion."

"Is someone going to sit with him all night?"

"I will." The rest of the squad when they returned would all be stoned in every sense of the word – hardly the best nursemaids.

"Where's the rest of the squad?" Coach asked.

"They went into the club after it happened." I said.

"Jesus! Who went with you?"

I shrugged. There was a long pause.

"Who's the girl?" Coach asked suddenly.

"Girl?"

He snorted. "How easily he forgets…the one in your jersey. This evening."  
I widened my eyes in understanding. "Oh. Casey."

Evidently not what Coach was expecting. "Your sister?" He sounded really surprised.

"_Step_-sister."

He looked up at me properly then. "Those four extra letters important?"

"Apparently so, Sir."

He nodded.

"Derek. I'm not impressed that Sean ended up at the hospital tonight. He will be going home. Thank god we have a sub. If it wasn't for the fact that your only involvement in the whole fiasco seems to have been the clean up, you would also be winging your way home. I'm pissed that the rest of the squad wimped out and buggered off when one of their own was down. Expect some hard training on Wednesday. Otherwise, I think you've got punishment enough having to stay up all night with Sean the sheep."

"Thanks, Coach." He had looked down at the papers on his desk, so I took it as a cue to leave.

"Oh Derek?"

I was almost at the door. "Yes coach?"

"If Casey's father comes after me with a gun for letting you sleep with his daughter on this tour, I will be after you too. Get it?"

"Casey's father's dead, sir. He died just over a year ago. That's why she's in England. A change of scene."

"Sorry. I didn't know." He paused. "However, I know you have yet to grace your dorm room with more than a fleeting visit. Your sheets are still as virgin as you aren't. Look, you're an adult. All of the squad are adults. Most of those guys will get laid at least once on tour. At least you're not screwing some skank in an alley or getting arrested for doing a ho in broad daylight." He scratched the side of his nose. "But, if your family find out about you and Casey, I'm denying all knowledge."

I chuckled. "That's fine Sir. Because there's nothing for them to find out."

"Derek. Lord knows I'm not the sharpest pencil in the box, but even I can recognise sexual tension when I see it."

"That would be UST, Sir."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah well, when you _resolve_ it, make sure I don't get to hear about it."

* * *

**AN: Charles Bronson = Actor = "Death Wish" movies.**


	29. Sightseeing

"What on earth happened to you? You look dreadful." I gasped as I opened the door to my room. Derek looked half asleep dishevelled, unshaven and frankly a mess.

"Thanks. Way to make me feel good about myself." He sniped as he came through the door. He staggered over to my bed, threw down his rucksack and collapsed in a heap, face down.

"Derek?" I prompted, concerned. He sighed and propped himself up using the pillows. "Good night?" I asked sarcastically.

"No. I didn't even make it into the club. Sean tripped on his way in because he and Tigsy had been drinking in their room before they left, and smashed his face into the concrete. I ended up spending three hours in the ER with him. Then when I got him back to the dorm, Coach caught us so I had to be hauled over the coals for fifteen minutes."

At his words, I sat down heavily on the bed. I knew that one false move would have Derek shipped back to Canada. I felt a sudden chill. Was he here to say goodbye?

As if reading my mind, he shook his head.

"Sean's going back, but apparently, I showed maturity so I get to stay." He smirked.

"Is Sean okay?"

Derek shrugged. "He's probably better than me right now. He slept all night. I got to sit and watch him."  
I must have look taken aback because he elaborated. "…in case of concussion, so that he didn't choke on his own vomit."

"Lovely." Sarcastic again.

He snickered, his eyes closed now.

"Coach relieved me at 6am, so I've had two hours sleep."

"You should have called. We can do this another time."

Derek shook his head. "Nah. I'll sleep it off next week. Take me while you can." He waved dismissively.

I couldn't help it. I giggled.

Derek opened a sleepy eye, a grin on his face. "You, Missy, have a dirty mind."

I leaned over. "You wish."

And yes, the flirty Casey had surfaced again.

He sat up suddenly, just missing me and we stared at each other.

"We should get going." He said quietly. "Before…"

_My stupid step-sister says something else ridiculous._ I filled in the blanks in my mind.

I nodded in agreement.

"A favour for me first." I qualified.

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Shave Derek. You look like a hobo."

He chuckled. "I would have done, but I left my razor here. Tell me you didn't use it for your legs."  
I stood up. "I don't shave my legs."

"Ew! Casey! Do I have an Ewok for a step-sis?"

I rolled my eyes. "No. I don't shave. I wax."

You would have thought I'd said I slept with the pope. His eyes bugged out of their sockets.

"Wax?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes. Since I moved to London. Willow takes me with her once a month to her beautician. Not that it's any of your business." I was moving around the room now, getting ready to go out.

"Wax." Derek repeated looking rather like a goldfish.

"Yes. Moron. Wax."

"You have your legs _waxed_?" He questioned.

"Yes Derek…and fascinating though this is I…"

"And…other places?"

I blushed. "Well yes. My underarms as well."

Derek gulped. "What about…_other_ other places?"

"Der-ek! I am _so_ not discussing this with you."

He blanched then recovered quickly.

"Just curious." He singsonged, climbing off the bed and making for the bathroom.

I heard the tap running and then his head poked round the door.

"With or without a landing strip?"

"Der-ek!"

* * *

The asshole and I eventually left the building, arguing as per usual.

I hate to say it but I had actually been quite worried about him, because he looked so bad. But when he started on about the waxing, I decided there was little wrong with him and gave as good as I got.

Although I did start to wonder if Derek had concussion too, because no sooner did we step onto the sidewalk than his fingers found mine and laced our hands together. I glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead, moaning about the British weather. Obviously this new proximity was something we weren't going to actually talk about. I liked it though, so I squeezed his hand gently. His thumb brushed the back of my hand.

We started off by getting the tube to catch a bus. I know that sounds strange but, I had learnt early on that you could see a lot of the sights of London just by catching a number 11 bus. It was a lot cheaper than a tourist bus and although we didn't get the commentary, the names of the bus stops and my little paper map and timetable gave us a clue where we were.

Derek woke up a bit on the bus and started taking pictures. We got off a couple of times and wandered around exploring. We went as far as Buckingham Palace and then took the bus back a few stops to the river.

We ate lunch in a little café near the London Eye – a massive enclosed ferris wheel which rotated slowly enough for you to get a decent view. After I had watched Derek put away an indecent volume of sausage and chips, we picked up the tickets I had pre-booked and took our places in the wheel's pod.

Derek took lots of pictures, including some of me. In fact, I think he had been taking pictures of me most of the morning. When we got to the top, however, he asked one of our fellow passengers to take a picture of us, and then surprised me when he snaked his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my hair.

"Thank you." He said quietly while we waited for his "assistant" to get the hang of the camera.

"For what?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.

The camera clicked but he never answered.

* * *

We walked along the main shopping areas of Oxford Street and Regent Street still holding hands and even bought a few things, although neither of us had much money. It was getting dark when Derek ripped the map out of my free hand and started dragging me down a side street, laughing maniacally, but he'd spotted somewhere he wanted to be: Carnaby Street.

"Come on Case. I want to see what all the fuss is about."

Derek, the "dedicated follower of fashion"? I chuckled and let him lead me down the wide street, which even now forty years after its heyday still had some weird and wonderful ground-breaking shops. Halfway down the road, we heard music and looked at each other in amazement as we came across a shop with a live band in it; people were shopping around the group, who carried on regardless.

A few doors down was a small bistro, and this time it was jazz music which issued from its depths.

I made to walk past, but Derek, still holding my hand, pulled me back.

"I'm hungry." he said, as he looked at the menu on the wall.

"You're always hungry."

"Yeah well I'm functioning on little sleep and lots of exercise here. I want to eat."

"It's central London, Derek. Food here isn't cheap."

He jerked his head to the menu. "It's not so bad. Come on. I'll treat you."

The bistro was comfortably busy but we managed to get a small corner booth, and as the waiter brought us the menu, I realised I too was quite hungry. The lighting was low, but there were small glass candle holders on the table with the type of candle designed to completely melt almost immediately. I had just enough light to read the menu card. When I had chosen a carbonara and Derek had ordered meatballs, we gave the cards back to the waiter and watched him walk away. The band started a new song.

"Well this is…" I started.

"Unexpected?" He smirked as he sipped his beer.

"I was going to say 'nice'. But, yes, 'unexpected' will do as well." I was frowning.

"Am I not allowed to take you out to dinner now?" he sounded surprised.

"I'm just trying to figure out what the catch is." My eyes widened and I leaned forward. "Show me your wallet."

"What?"

"Show me your wallet."  
"Why?"

"On the table, Venturi."

Derek rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet. As soon as it hit the table, I snatched it up. I stretched it open and checked for notes. There was about a hundred pounds in Sterling. More than enough. I frowned and handed the wallet back to him.

He chuckled. "What? You think I'd pull the 'I left my wallet at home' trick?"

"Not to put too fine a point on it…yes!" I admitted.

"You have a really bad opinion of me, don't you?" He sounded slightly sad.  
I coughed politely. "Born of many years practical experience." It was irrefutable.

"I don't believe this, my best friend just called me a tight wad." Derek protested.

"You _are_ a tight wad." I stopped. "_Best friend_?"

He shrugged and sipped his beer again. "I don't email anyone else the way I email you."

"You only email me because three thousand miles of ocean means you can't piss me off face-to-face."

"Granted that's one of the reasons." He looked at my grimace. "Okay, a very _big_ part. But I hardly ever see Sam anymore and Tom's on a different agenda to me. Even Ralph is a baby daddy now. You're the closest thing I have to a best friend."

Seriously, he saw us as _best friends_?!

"Oh how the mighty fall! You want me to scratch between my legs and belch?" I asked, grimly.

He smirked. "Only if you feel the need, honey."

I threw my napkin at him, and took a big sip from my own wine glass.

"Careful with that. You drink too much tonight you'll probably try and jump me or something later."

"Derek…_honey_…There is not enough alcohol in the world for me to get drunk enough to even consider jumping your bones."

"Liar!" He said, drinking more of his beer. And he thought _I_ was getting drunk?

We stared at each other and on my part at least I was trying to work out if this was one of our usual fights or not.

The waiter placed some bread in front of us. It broke the spell which held our argument together and Derek got up and made his way to the bathroom. I got the impression he was pissed at me for some reason.

When he returned he said nothing, the food had been delivered while he was gone and he just ate.

"Derek?" I asked softly.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm tired Casey. I was up all night, remember?" Yup. He was upset. I bit my lip. This was just one of the many problems between me and my step-brother. We fell from play fighting to real fighting so easily.

I shuffled closer to him and nudged him.

"Couldn't fit through the toilet window, eh?"

He frowned, a confused smile on his lips.

"I call you out on the wallet business, so you try to do a runner, only to find you can't fit through the hole."

"You're scary, you know that?" He said, smirking.

"The way I can read your mind?"

"That, the way you jump topics... and a few other things."

"Like?" And we were serious again.

"You make me…You're just…Scary." He mumbled.

"Thanks for the flattery."

We ate in silence for a while. Then he surprised me with honesty.

"I just wanted to take you out to dinner."

After the meal, we decided to go home. Derek was shattered and I had to nudge him while we were on the underground to keep him awake. He smiled, slid an arm around my shoulders, and buried his face in my hair, trying to hide the fact he was drifting off again. When we left the tube and started the short walk to my building, it was me dragging him along by the hand.

* * *

Derek was asleep before I even got into bed that night. It was still early, but the walking around had tired me too so rather than leave the room or reading, I climbed into bed and turned out the light.

No sooner had my head hit the pillow, however, than the usual arm curled around me drawing me closer.

"Casey?" A sleepy voice whispered in my ear.

"Hmm?" I replied, also sleepily.

"What the hell are you wearing?

** AN: This is chapter 29, and I have mocked up a plan which has this story lasting to 40 chapters. I might not get this particular chapter out in one day as I've spent most of the morning writing one of the middle chapters.**

**(I've also spend most of the morning crying over that later chapter…I swear when I picked Daniel up from Nursery they thought someone had died!).**

**Can I just point out to anyone who is ever offended by references I make in passing to God, Christianity and the Catholic faith (see last chapter) that I mean no offence. Over the years I have discovered that the Catholics are very good at laughing at themselves – I should know I am one. **


	30. Bruised Egos

I had woken with my alarm at 8am the morning after Sean's accident. As I hadn't gone to bed until 6am, this meant I had had just two hours sleep. I briefly toyed with the idea of phoning Casey to cancel and switching my alarm off, but then the realisation that after next week it would be another five months before I saw her kicked in. So instead, I dragged myself out of bed, and showered; which was when I discovered I had left my razor at Casey's, and that eventually caused me to enter into the whole "waxed" conversation with my step-sister.

That and the "dirty mind" thing were too much to handle on a day when I had had just two hours sleep.

Things didn't get any easier either.

Going sight-seeing with Casey, was like the dinner we shared the other night all over again. I felt like I was on a date. I even took her hand in mine as we left her building – something I never did with any of my girlfriends. It was unplanned and I woke up with a start as soon as I realised what I had done. But by then Casey had refrained from launching a scathing attack on me, instead choosing to squeeze my hand as if it was okay.

I had rubbed my thumb against her skin, and left our hands entwined.

I got to take pictures today. So I took as many as I could. Picture after picture of the places we passed. But my new academic "Major" instincts kicked in, and I found myself recording people as well as buildings, alleyways as well as attractions, and for myself, a lot of photographs of Casey.

She had dressed today in jeans and a blue UCL sweatshirt under her coat, her hair pulled back from her face so that the damp air didn't get to it. She looked the same as always, but different. With her father's death, life had knocked a little more of the innocence from her eyes, and good for her though the trip to London was, it too was changing her.

In the pod on the top of the massive wheel, I saw her innocence again, and it was that which prompted me to ask a complete stranger to take a photo of us. Growing up was good, and I would cheer her forward with whatever she chose to be, but I didn't want her to lose who she was.

The restaurant was a spur of the moment decision, but one I had honestly thought about for a while. Casey cooking for me was nice, and yeah, for me at least, it felt like a date. But taking Casey out to dinner was a whole new ball game.

I guess I couldn't blame her for finding it strange.

* * *

As soon as we got back, I crashed. I barely made it into the bathroom to strip to my boxers and clean my teeth as usual. I did manage it though and then fell gratefully into Casey's bed and immediately to sleep.

I don't know how much longer it was when I sensed her pull back the covers and slide in next to me. I smiled to myself and pulled her close the way I normally did.

It was my bare chest which sensed the change first. Instead of soft warm cotton against me, I felt a fabric which was cool and smooth. I was half asleep, but the change was enough to waken me further. All my sleep-addled mind could think of was a pale pink lace and satin camisole and a fantastically indecent pair of matching briefs.

I had to ask.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Casey sounded tired when she replied. "A night shirt, why?"

I opened my eyes, but it was pointless. Casey had already switched off the light.

"What happened to the usual pyjamas?" I was wide awake now, and so was my body. I was itching to run a hand down her side to see just exactly how covered up she was.

_Not a good idea, Derek. This is Casey you are contemplating groping._

She yawned. "I found this in a shop today and I remembered what Mom said to me about buying slightly more grown up underwear. It's okay, Derek. It goes down to my knees and wrists."

_Yes. But what are you wearing under it?_

My errant hand moved to her side and ran exploratory fingers over her hip. I felt the slight bump of a seam that was separate from the nightshirt.

Panties.

I must still have some teenage hormones kicking around because I started having fantasies about lifting the tail of her shirt and…

"Derek?"

"Hmm?" I was distracted.

"What are you doing?"

_What? Oh shit!_ My hand had continued its downward momentum from her hip, and finding a slit in the side of the shirt tails had moved the fabric aside and was caressing the skin of Casey's hip.

I pulled my hand away as if I'd been burnt.

"Nothing. Go to sleep." I grouched and then turned over and went to sleep with my back to her (out of necessity) and an uneasy feeling that I could hear a sleepy giggle.

* * *

The next morning was far, far worse.

I woke up on my back with Casey's head under my chin, her left cheek resting on my collarbone and her open palm covering my naked left nipple. Her body was turned towards me, covering my right side and her bent right leg sandwiched between my own legs. For my part in this "masterpiece" of screw-ups, I had my right arm around her back, and at some point in the night I must have undone the bottom three buttons of her nightshirt because my left hand was under said nightshirt, stroking the soft, skin beneath her right breast. She might be wearing panties, but she was not wearing a bra. I was close enough to tell.

Tentatively, I moved my right arm down, hoping against hope that I was still right about the panties. They were still there and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Because it was getting light outside, I could see a little of the room now and the nightgown was ivory-coloured. It was soft and rather pretty.

It suited Casey.

I lay there for a while, watching her sleep and making no effort to move from our current position. When I woke out of my stupor and tried to pull away, Casey stirred and snuggled closer, brushing my hand with her breast.

And I swear to God it was _that_ way round!

"Casey?"

"Hmmm?" she wasn't awake.

"I don't think nightshirts are a good idea when you're sleeping with me."

"Oh?"

I waited for the realisation to hit her: her hand on my breast, and mine on hers.

It took a few seconds, then…

"Der-ek!" She sat up suddenly.

Unfortunately, with the proximity of our legs, she accidentally kneed me between the legs as she did so.

"Ooooph!" I exclaimed, doubling up with the pain.

For a moment, Casey looked stunned – and angry. Then she realised what she had done. "Oh my god! Sorry!"

She leaned back towards me to see if I was okay and the nightshirt gaped giving me a grandstand view of her breasts, - just as her knee brushed against my already bruised anatomy - again.

_Not helping, Casey!_

"God! Derek. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?"

In my pain-addled mind I remembered a dirty joke, but now was not the time.

"Yeah. Don't fucking move!"

She froze. I edged away from her slightly.

After a few moments, the pain dulled to an ache, the red mist dissipated. I looked up at her wryly.

"Well that's one way to get me to keep my hands to myself."

Casey laughed.

In fact, a whole wave of giggles swept over her and she had to bury her face against my shoulder. I joined in, kissing the top of her head, and we laughed together, our bodies shaking with mirth.

Eventually, the laughter died away and we looked up at each other.

"Are you okay?" She asked, touching the side of my face with her hand. Her blue eyes were sparkling in the soft light, and she had never looked less like my teenage step-sister than she did at that moment.

She was all woman.

I turned my face into her hand and kissed it. Then I kissed her wrist, forearm, moving my face into her shoulder. And she encircled my head with her arms.

She was letting me kiss her.

"Case…I…"

And then some bastard knocked on the door.

Casey scrambled to her feet and made for the door.

"Casey!" I hissed urgently. Fortunately, she turned to look at me, and I nodded towards her buttons, still undone – by some weird occurrence last night. She blushed and quickly did them up before she yanked open the door.

It was Willow, and she bounced into the room without waiting for an invitation.

"What's this I hear about you blowing off lectures yesterday?" She asked. It was obvious she thought Casey was on her own.

Casey looked at me, guiltily, knowing that her absence from class yesterday was news to me. I had assumed that she had a free day and that was why she had suggested sight-seeing. Casey missing lectures for me was a big deal.

"Derek had the day free, so we decided to go see a few things." She admitted quietly, nodding in my direction. Willow, by now in the room followed Casey's glance and surprise crossed her face.

She hadn't realised I was present – and in Casey's bed.

"Casey McDonald! You sly old minx!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked defensively. I rested my head on my elbow and watched the scene unfold. It was amusing, but at the same time, I hoped Casey wasn't going to freak.

"You, having sleep-overs with Derek. Incidentally, nice pecs!" The comment was aimed at me, but it was Casey that blushed. Willow advanced on her friend, backing her towards the bed.

"What did I interrupt?" Willow asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"N-n-nothing." Casey stammered, sitting down on the bed. Out of sight, I took her hand.

"Bollocks! You're both half-dressed! Or at least I assume you both are, from what I can see of Derek, he could be naked under there."

"Willow!" Casey objected.

"Willow." I said more calmly. "Why the shock? Casey's my sister. There's nothing wrong with me sharing a bed with her. With Robbie growing so big, Dad and Nora are even considering bunk beds for us at home."

Casey's head spun round.

"That was a joke, Casey." I noted, glancing at her. "Although I wouldn't put it past them to try it one day. Toss you for who goes _on top_." I smirked, but I was stroking her fingers.

"Did you ask Casey…?" Another voice came through the door, followed by its owner.

James.

He stopped dead in the doorway.

"Bloody hell, Case!" He exclaimed.

Oh come on! Was it really that much of a shock? Besides, _nothing happened_. Just a copped feel and a badly bruised…ego.

Oh, and a couple of pretty chaste kisses.

Willow, meantime, had recovered. She pointed at Casey.

"You and I…we are _so _discussing this again! In the meantime, there's a KK night in the union tomorrow. Are you and Derek, coming?"

"KK night?" I queried.

"Karaoke and Kwiz." Casey explained.

Willow was rather threatening in her stance.

"Sure?" I answered.

Casey threw me a look that said 'I can't believe you agreed to that'.

I just couldn't win!

* * *

I left Casey a short time later. There was a morning practice scheduled and this being Wednesday, an afternoon game. In England apparently, Wednesday afternoons are dedicated to inter-university sports fixtures. Most people have Wednesday afternoons free. I didn't take that for granted with Casey anymore though.

"What are you doing this afternoon?"

"I normally have a dance class and then James and I train. But apparently, James has something on this afternoon, so I'll come down to your game as soon as my dance class is over." She said, packing her bag ready for her morning lectures. "Derek?"

"Hmm?"

"Just so I know. Are you staying here every night until you leave?"

"Am I invited?" My gaze was intense because although the exchange was casual it meant far more than that.

"I think I could probably survive if that was the case." She said quietly.

Stunned, I smiled and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Then I guess I'm staying." I murmured close to her ear. "You might want to rethink the nightshirt though."

Casey giggled.

_Or not._

* * *

**AN: If anyone doesn't know the dirty joke I'm talking about and has a desire to know it, PM me and I'll tell it to you.**


	31. Ink

I left for lectures that morning with my head firmly still in my room. Derek said goodbye on the steps of my building with a kiss on my forehead. The wind blew my hair across my face as I looked up at him, and he was watching me.

"Derek…"

He stopped me by brushing a thumb across my cheekbone.

"Don't over-analyse, princess. Just go with the flow."

For the first time ever the term 'princess' didn't rankle with me.

"You do realise that's like asking me not to breathe, don't you?"

He grinned. "Yeah. But I had to say it anyway."

"How about we settle for a promise that if I analyse to the point where I want to inflict violence on your person I give you fair warning and a head start?"

Derek leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "You didn't this morning, honey." As he pulled back his lips brushed my cheek.

"Sorry." I apologised for the damaged…ego again.

"I know." He looked up at the sky. "I've got a free morning tomorrow. We could do a bit more sight-seeing."

"I've got a lecture first thing. But it's over by 10."

"Fine. Lie-in for me then."

"Or you could come with me. It's a big class."

"Let's talk about it tonight after the game."

"Okay. I've got to go." I stretched up and kissed his cheek. "See you this afternoon. Be careful on the ice."

He smirked and watched me walk away.

* * *

My lecture was on symbolism in Blake's poetry and normally I would have enjoyed it. My own favourite was one of the poems from Songs of Innocence entitled 'A Dream'. I remember the first time I read it, and how I had needed to look up the word 'emmet' which Blake used. That was when I discovered that the largest, most muscled vampire in Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga was named after an ant! It still made me laugh every time I read it.

Today however, I could not concentrate. Today, I could still feel Derek's kisses on my hand, my wrist and my arm, the kiss on my forehead too. I also remembered the feel of his hand on my breast. Accidental though it was, it was a feeling I didn't want to forget.

He texted me later, to say that Sean had been sent home and that the Coach had run them all into the ground so he was going back to bed in his room. He told me the arrangements for the game and that he would see me outside the locker room afterwards. He finished his text with a final **Don't over analyse, D X**.

It occurred to me that I hadn't been analysing at all – just fantasising.

Not that I was about to tell Derek that!

* * *

I was still fantasising when I got to my dance class. It was good to dance again. Even in England, I had kept up my exercise routine. It wasn't easy while Derek was there so I normally waited until he had left. I got to the studio early and warmed up for three times as long as usual.

After the jazz class, I went back to my room for a shower and to drop my bag off. By the time I finished, I noted I would only miss fifteen minutes of Derek's game.

Sure enough, I slipped in the back and managed to find a decent seat but it was harder than last time. Evidently word had got out that the Canadian team were hot, because the vast majority of the spectators were college girls.

Few were wearing a Queens' "Q" shirt though, and I was the only one with 'Venturi' on the back.

Derek looked up several times during the game as if looking for me. It wasn't until the fifth or sixth time that he actually spotted me, however. I knew he had because he smirked and his whole demeanour relaxed.

He played well but wrenched his shoulder in the game. It looked painful, so I wasn't surprised he was in a bad mood when he met me afterwards.

"I need to go back to my room." He said quietly. "I left my rucksack there."

"Sure." I replied, and followed him out of the building.

He waited until we were halfway to his Halls before he took my hand in his.

* * *

The game had been early on in the day which meant it was still early when we reached my end of town. We picked up a pizza and ice cream from the supermarket and headed home for a DVD and the food.

That night, he took ibuprofen to try and ease his shoulder but it wasn't working. I watched him squirming on the bed as he tried to get comfortable. He stretched his hand behind his back into an awkward position and tried rubbing his shoulder.

"You okay?" I asked. He was sitting close to me, but for some reason it didn't feel close enough.

"My shoulder hurts." He explained, knowing that I had seen the action that had caused the injury, and understood.

I didn't respond, I just moved behind him and started massaging his shoulder through his t-shirt. This was not typical behaviour for me and we both knew it. Something had changed this morning, though, or thinking back on it the change was rooted back many months and was slow-burning in its nature. I thought again about the previous night and morning.

"It would be easier without the shirt." I said.

Derek pulled it over his head, and let my fingers work their magic.

My fingers on his skin.

I saw the imperfect perfection: The smooth skin, with its occasional freckle and the absence of hair or ink. The latter surprised me, although it wasn't a new surprise. I had seen his bare back many times, and each time it surprised me that he hadn't followed his team mates lead and had some design etched into his skin.

"Why no tattoo?" I found myself asking. Secretly I was relieved. I personally didn't like them. I found them too much on an already indecently masculine body. Max had got one done while we were dating – and he was underage – we had argued about it.

Derek chuckled softly. "Why do you think?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at me. "You know me better than anyone. Why not?"

"Because you're a wimp when it comes to needles."

"And she falls at the first hurdle." He commentated. "Wrong answer."

"Why then?"

"When you work it out, come and find me." He said, grinning.

Frustrated, I pushed hard into his muscles. You needed strong hands to massage the muscles on Derek's back. He was slighter than a quarterback, but he was probably as fit. Being totally honest with myself, I preferred his physique to the more bulky football player physique. I traced the line of his shoulder blade with my fingers.

"You should change majors, Case. Choose sports science. You're good at that."

We watched the movie, and my fingers continued to knead his tired muscles, and when they were red from my touch, I let them stray to his other shoulder, lower back and even his neck. I moved closer and changed my position on the bed. I hadn't had any alcohol, but I felt lightheaded from my proximity to him.

Then Derek broke the spell suddenly. He stood moved around the bed and climbed back on behind me. He stretched a leg either side of me and ran a hand up my (clothed) back.

"Your turn. Shirt off please, and if you're good, I'll let you keep your bra on."

Six years ago, an opinionated teenaged girl moved in with her new, equally opinionated step-brother. She hated him with an indignant passion, and pulled away every time his skin touched hers for even the most innocent of touches.

I wasn't pulling away now, and I sensed this was far from innocent. I reached down to the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, grateful that I had worn one of my new lacy bras instead of the usual sports bra that I tended to wear on a Wednesday for dance and training with James.

"What no ink? Casey! You surprise me. I would have thought a girl like you would be covered."

"Ha Ha."

He grinned and then I felt his fingers on skin that immediately tingled. I didn't pull away. Derek's hands were unexpectedly soft; gentle but still probing. He brushed my hair to one side over a shoulder and dragged trails across my skin. The tingles increased and I felt myself lean back towards him, my eyes closed.

"You don't eat enough." He muttered, and his breath was on my skin. "I can feel your ribs." The accompanying movement tickled and I giggled.

"I've done nothing but eat since you've been here." I complained.

"Then maybe I'm good for you." He noted.

"Yes you are." I murmured back.

"I'm glad you think so." His voice was quiet as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back against his chest. "I'm not convinced." The back of my head was resting on his shoulder and we looked at each other.

"Why?"

"Because I push you."

I scoffed. "That's one of the reasons why you are. You challenge me, make me take myself to the absolute limit."  
"And that's good, while we're talking about fulfilling your potential; reaching for your goals." He sighed. "Not so hot when we're talking about you lying half naked in your step-brother's arms – and he's seriously contemplated separating you and that ineffectual piece of lace that you call a bra."

"Do it, Derek."

He smiled. "Casey, Casey, Casey. You have no idea how much I want to. But if I do, then the rest of your clothes will follow, and I don't think either of us is ready for that." He stroked my arms and was quiet for a moment. "Wow! I admitted I found you non-repulsive and the world didn't end!"

"Moron." I said. He passed me my t-shirt and I looked at him quizzically.

"I'm not saying never. I'm just saying not right now."

T-shirt restored to my body, I leaned back against him.

"You know Derek. Your body is saying something totally different to your mouth."

He chuckled. "Just ignore it. It'll go away if you don't provoke it."

"Provoke it?"

"Yeah. Like, move provocatively, talk provocatively and so on."

"I move provocatively and talk provocatively?"

"Yeah. All the time."  
"What do I say?"

"'Hi Derek'. That's the worst."

* * *

We behaved. The massaging stopped. I at least remained clothed, although Derek, to my relief, left his t-shirt off. I liked the feel of his bare shoulder under my chin. The movie ended, and by now it was late, so we went to bed.

I wore another new nightshirt, blue this time.

Derek smirked, but said nothing.

Later, as we lay in the dark, entwined as normal, but less restrained for some reason, I asked the question.

"You know I'm never going to guess, so just tell me." I complained.

"Tell you what?"

"Why no ink?"

He kissed my neck.

"You hate tattoos."


	32. Lassiter v Venturi

**AN: SORRY!**

**For the delay in updating – I have a head cold.**

**For this chapter.**

* * *

"Come on lovebirds! Time to rise and shine. We got Quizzer ass to kick!" Willow's voice called through the door to my room. She had stopped picking the locks these days. I think she was scared she might walk in on something.

I didn't think that was likely…yet.

"I'm contemplating ass kicking." I muttered under my breath. "But it isn't the quizzer variety."

Derek grinned. "We'd better go join them before she comes looking for us." I got up from the chair and moved to the door, but Derek stopped me from opening it.

"Just in case you were under a false impression about tonight." He said and his arm caught my waist. "This _is_ a date. Even if we have to share it with your pocket whirlwind and the karate kid."

Trying to ignore the sudden step up in his behaviour towards me – and the resulting increase in my heart rate, I darted forward and pecked him on the cheek.

"You sure? I mean I'm sure there's a hot blonde somewhere in London ready to make you her valentine." I teased him, surprised at my own boldness.

Derek smirked and –oh my god!- nuzzled my neck. "I'd rather have the hot brunette."

My heart was now pumping so fast I thought it would pop out of my chest.

It was now the Sunday of that week and not just any Sunday. It was Valentine's day and this particular year, it would appear that my Valentine was Derek.

The subtle flirting which had started last weekend had continued apace for the rest of the week. We had progressed from very subtle flirting to holding hands, and chaste embraces. Since Wednesday, the frequency and degree of intimacy of those touches had increased. If there had been any doubt that there was something significant going on between us, it was blown out of the water now with Derek's words.

We still hadn't kissed on the mouth or anything more dramatic, but I had high hopes for tonight. And when he pulled his lips from his exploration of my neck, and Derek's eyes met mine, I knew he did too.

"Later." He said, softly. I nodded. I guess we were both ready to cross the already blurred line; just not in front of an audience.

After a successful KK night the previous Thursday, where we had thrashed the opposition and won a crate of beer, we had been coerced into joining Willow and James at the Union's own quiz night. It was designed as a sort of anti-Valentine's evening for all the singletons out there. At least, that's what Willow had said when she persuaded us. There had been nearly three days since then, and I wasn't entirely sure that "singletons" was exactly the right term for Derek and me anymore. Lack of kissing aside, he was behaving like my boyfriend.

"There you are! Come on or we'll miss out on the best table." Wils greeted us. She waited until we were in the elevator. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to pull strangers in off the street to take your places. We need our six people."

"Six?" I queried, looking between James and Willow as the lift descended. "Who are the other two?"

James looked uncomfortable and Willow sniggered.

"Ah well. It appears, James has been holding out on us."

"Oh?" I turned to Jay and looked enquiringly at him.

"Yes." Willow continued. "It seems that it wasn't only Mel who was visiting James this week." The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors pinged. Willow stepped out and turning, nodded towards the foyer. "Lucy's here too."

"Who's Lucy?" Derek asked.

"Lucy is to James what I am to you." I explained.

Derek smirked. "A right royal pain in the ass?"

"You think you're joking." James said quietly. Both the guys grinned at each other.

"I didn't know you had a step-sister." Derek said, interested.

"Sister-in-law, not step-sister." James told him. "Her sister married my brother."

"Apparently, our families are fated to be together." Lucy said, coming towards us holding out her hand, a sly smile on her face. "You must be Derek. I have to say I thought Casey was exaggerating. She wasn't."

"Exaggerating about what?" Derek tilted his head to look at me curiously. I shrugged.

"Don't look at me. Ahem…Wils? Did you say something about getting a good table?"

Willow grinned. "Yup. Lets get a move on." God I love my friend! Sensing my unease she skilfully steered the five of us out of the door. As we descended the steps outside, Derek pulled me closer to his side using the hand he already possessed.

"You are going to have to elaborate later." He murmured.

"About what?"

"What you told Lucy about me."

"Wils. Who's the sixth member of our team?" I quickly asked.

The sixth member of our team turned out to be Andy, one of the guys that Willow knew from her faculty. I had seen him around a bit.

In fact, I had seen him around a lot. I looked closely at Willow and her friend, and chuckled softly to myself.

"What's so amusing?" Derek asked.

"I think James isn't the only one who has been holding out on me." I whispered, nodding in Willow's direction just in time for Derek to see Andy surreptitiously brush Willow's back with his hand. Although only Derek and I saw it, it was meant to be a possessive gesture.

Derek's eyes met mine and his own arm slid around _my_ waist.

* * *

It was a great evening. And for a singletons' evening, we looked very much like three couples. My own paramour was as "obnoxious" as you would expect, but the insults and barbed comments lost their edge when they are accompanied by the squeeze of my hand in his, and the brush of his fingers against my skin.

Derek displayed an unbelievable knowledge of soccer which helped out our team as both James and Andy confessed to being rugby vets rather than "football". Despite his initial distrust of James, Derek quickly took to him and Andy, especially when he saw how the former was around Lucy.

It appeared that something had changed in James' interactions with Lucy. When I questioned him while Lucy and Willow were in the little girl's room, he swore it wasn't the change in her looks since her early teens. Instead, he said she challenged him. Derek looked at James with a new respect.

"There's nothing like a challenge." He said, into his pint.

In a quiet moment, when the others were busy arguing over the year of Madonna's first UK number one, Derek leaned close to me.

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Us."

I took a breath.

"Is there an 'us'?" I asked somewhat shakily.

"I want there to be." He whispered, kissing a place near my ear.

"So do I." I admitted, finally.

He rested his forehead against my own head.

"Good. Talk later? When we're alone."

"Hmm." I managed, squeezing his hand a little and wondering how much 'talking' would actually get done.

We had reached such an emotional high with Derek's visit. Gone were the days of our early college life, where we had started to get closer and then panicked. Gone were the days of our friendship before I moved to London. This time we were both ready.

Unfortunately, the world was not.

* * *

Derek was kissing my neck again when my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an unusual occurrence, so I pulled it out to take a look.

**Just 2 warn u. Xpect call from Mom. Ed's in trouble at school. Sumthing 2 do with u and Derek. Crap has hit fan. Liz X**

I frowned. None of it made any sense. Derek rested his chin on my shoulder.

"What's all that about?"

"No idea. I haven't discussed what's been going on with anyone from home. There _is_ no 'crap' to hit the fan."

"Me either. What the hell's going on?"

"I should phone Liz."

"Come on. Let's get out of here."

We made our excuses and left the bar, saying that I wasn't feeling well. The quiz papers had been collected so instead of angry team mates, we merely received knowing looks. Because the bar was two buildings down from my own dorm, we went back to my room and I wasted no time in phoning Liz.

Derek sat beside me on the bed.

"Hi Liz. It's me. Can you talk?"

"Oh Hi Bethany! Give me one second. It's a bit noisy here."

In the background I could hear George shouting. Or at least the only person it could be was George, because he called Edwin, 'son', but I had never heard George shout like that.

"Sorry, Case." Liz said then, and the background noise had gone. "George is a bit angry. I didn't want him to know that I was talking to you."  
"Lizzie. You're scaring me. What's going on?"  
"Apparently, there's a rumour circulating through school and our neighbourhood that you've gone to London because you are pregnant with Derek's child."

Without thinking, I laughed. "I'm _what?!_"

Derek frowned. He couldn't hear what Lizzie was saying.

"Hang on Liz." I switched my phone to speakerphone and Liz repeated the rumour so that Derek could hear.

My step-brother didn't laugh.

"What did Ed do when he heard the rumour?" He asked. The sound of Derek's voice surprised my sister.

"Derek?! You're there with Casey?!" Lizzie was aghast.

"Yeah. Why? I'm not allowed to visit my step-sister now?"  
Lizzie coughed. "It's not that…it's just…not good. You see, what should have just been a stupid rumour has gotten out of hand. Ed is the calmest person I know but after being asked fifty plus times what it was like to have incest in the family he lost it. He thumped someone."

"Wow!" I was flabbergasted. (I hate that word).

Derek didn't look impressed. "Who did he hit?"

"That was part of the problem. You remember that guy in grade ten who was rumoured to be related to the Principal?"  
"Oh fucking hell…" Derek said.

Liz was right. Crap will have hit the fan.

"The trouble is, because Ed isn't a fighter normally, George went in there prepared to speak in his defence. Lassiter and George hate each other, so as soon as the Principal started on the 'no smoke without fire' tack, George, all guns blazing, starts on about defamation of character."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. All the euphoria of the past week had gone. I glanced at Derek and saw he was watching me.

"Why is Dad still shouting?" he asked.

"He's questioning the fam."

"About what?"

There was a silence.

"He wants to know if there is anything going on between you two."

* * *

We had finished the call with Lizzie because Mom had called her. She promised to not say anything about Derek being with me. We sat in silence for a long time and then the tears started. Derek held me while I cried.

"Sorry." I said. "Tears."

"I'm not exactly euphoric right now either." He said. His eyes at least were dry. He looked like hell though. "Don't make hasty decisions." He begged.

I looked at him sadly.

"Decisions?" I asked in disbelief. "Derek…'decisions' imply we have a choice. Are you telling me you think we do?"

My almost-boyfriend slumped, his arm on my back moving with him, but not relaxing its grip.

"We're adults. This is none of their business." He said dejectedly, but he knew what I would say.

"It's their business when your calm, sedate brother gets into trouble at school defending _our_ reputations. How would Ed feel if we go back to Canada and confess it was true?"

"If you're pregnant, it's nothing to do with me!" Derek said quickly.

"Idiot! I meant the dating rumour, which incidentally was so very nearly true."  
"_Is_ true." Derek corrected.

I closed my eyes. "D. I'm sorry…I…"

"No Casey. You don't go back on this now. It's taken me too long to come around to the idea that I care about you, for it all to end now."

"I can't. I can't hurt the family."  
"But you can hurt me?"

"I'm hurting myself more." My voice was sad and distorted by tears.

He let go of me and stood up.

"Somehow I very much doubt that, _princess_!" He snapped. I watched him gathering up his belongings from my room and stuff them into his rucksack.

"Where are you going?" But I knew.

"I'm here on a hockey tour Casey. Tomorrow I'm supposed to return to Canada. It's an early start. I should be in my own room."  
"You were going to stay tonight."

"I was going to stay with my girlfriend. You just told me that isn't you."

"Derek…" I pleaded.

"Casey. I didn't make the decision to change our relationship lightly. I thought long and hard about it. I thought about what would happen if we split up – with the family. Over the last two years you've become very important to me. You've always been important to me, but even more so now. I screwed up when we were freshman, I wasn't going to make that mistake again. But if this isn't what you want, I can't force you."  
"It's what I want. It's just not what I can have." I couldn't see him through my tears.

"Then I guess I need to go." He sounded resigned. He started to move towards the door but stopped, coming back to me and brushing the tears from my cheeks.

"I guess we'll have five months to get over this." He said, looking at me steadily, the hurt burning in his eyes.

"Four. I changed my return date. I wanted us to spend more of the summer together."  
He chuckled humourlessly. "Probably not a good idea." He looked around the room one last time.

"This wasn't how I saw tonight ending." He said softly. "I've never even kissed you."

He pressed a kiss against my forehead and I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, he was gone.


	33. Goodbye

**AN: An observation. I once got dumped on 15****th**** Feb. My boyfriend of nearly four years – and yes… he had sent me a card the day before, even though the decision was already made by then. Anyway, moving swiftly on….**

**The following is Derek, and short, because it needed to be written, but the next scenes are…different.**

* * *

You know the really sad thing is, I slept well that night. I tried to analyse why as I had my shower. Then I realised, I had spent long periods of the last eight nights watching Casey in my arms rather than sleeping. The night I didn't spend with her I had spent watching Sean with his smashed nose.

(No fucking comparison!).

And yet, despite the sleep, I was still tired when I dressed; tired and weary. She had worn me out physically (although not in the way both of us really wanted) and emotionally.

The hardest thing of all was she had been right about us.

We could go through the whole of life having "moments", and even now I knew we probably still would, but we would never cross that line.

Because we both loved our family.

I had to admit it now. Casey _was_ family and she always would be. Some day she would marry someone and change her last name. But she would always be my step-sister.

And I would always love her.

"Oi! Ya lovesick puppy. Get your ass downstairs with your bags before Coach does his nut." Tom's head appeared around the door. I took a last look at the room, grabbed my bags and followed him.

Downstairs, I stashed my bags in the hold of the bus, and stood with the rest of the squad, waiting. Tom was wittering on about some party that was being thrown in our honour when we got back to Queens, but I zoned out.

It wasn't until he nudged me with his shoulder and jerked his head as if telling me to turn around that I realised we had an audience.

Standing several feet away near the entrance to the dorms, looking pale and tired as though she hadn't slept in a week, stood Casey. I glanced at Coach who was still arguing with his subordinate about the non-appearance of three of our group, then walked over to her and led her around the corner and out of sight.

"Hi." It sounded lame. In just minutes I would be gone and it would be another four months before I saw her again. Four months in which everything we had shared over the past nine days would fade.

"Hi." She replied simply. But it was one more word face-to-face that I didn't think I would get. She looked down nervously. Then realising time was short, cleared her throat.

"Erm…sorry…I've got a bit of a speech. I know how much you hate them."

We both chuckled sadly.

"Derek. I think we were different people here in England. We are." She insisted when I shook my head. "Here we forgot the other relationship and just concentrated on us. When you go, those two people won't exist anymore. We won't even be able to bring them out for high days and holidays." She smiled weakly.

"Casey, I…" She held up a hand to stop me.

"I came here this morning, because I think those two people, the ones that won't exist in ten minutes? They deserve a chance to say goodbye to each other. Casey and Derek - brother and sister said goodbye last night. And they will see each other in four months, and neither of them will think the time apart was long." She took a deep breath. "But, you and I, the other Casey and Derek, we need to say goodbye now. Forever." Her voice broke and I bit the inside of my mouth. She was right. I hated it when Casey was right.

Especially now.

She swallowed hard.

"You said you'd never even kissed me. I think I would like for you to kiss me goodbye."

.

I moved forward and she stepped into my embrace. But we didn't kiss. I hugged her tightly and buried my lips in her hair, close to her ear.

"You're right, of course. Christ! You're right. But, you need to promise me you'll remember something even though these two people don't exist anymore. _This_ Derek loves _you_. I will always love _you_. And only you. No matter what crap his alter ego pulls, who he marries, what he _says_."

She turned her head so that her lips were against my ear.

"And this Casey is _your_ Casey. I love _you_. Only you."

And then I kissed her.

Softly, gently at first, and then when she responded and her mouth was soft but urgent against mine, the kiss deepened. Our lips moved, our tongues brushed each other. Neither of us breathed. I felt her silent tears on my cheeks, not entirely sure that some weren't my own.

I don't know how long the kiss lasted but it felt like no time at all, and yet it had to be a lifetime of kisses.

"Derek." The voice was soft, and uncharacteristically gently.

It wasn't Casey.

It came from behind me.

It was Tom.

"Sorry guys." He apologised, and when I glanced I saw a sad regret in his eyes. "The Coach is doing his nut. You need to come now."

I nodded.

Then I squeezed Casey to me.

"Remember?"

"You too."

"How could I forget?" I grinned. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Goodbye?"  
"Goodbye."

I kissed her on the mouth briefly, then on the forehead and finally as I let go of her, I kissed her on the hand.

She followed me and Tom back to the bus. As I passed the Coach he opened his mouth to say some thing, but at the last moment saw something in my face and abruptly closed his mouth.

We climbed on board to rousing cheers, but I knew it was only for the fact I was late. They could not have seen the little scene between Casey and I. Tom made some comment about people with weak bladders, and I was grateful for his quick thinking.

I took my seat and glanced out at the face of Casey McDonald as the bus drove away.


	34. Nora I

When I was at college, I drove everywhere. Owning a car as a student then was less common and I was ridiculously popular as a result. I was always the DD.

Driving for me was second nature, so I had thought nothing of the two hour commute to date George and although I normally deferred to George for family "_road trips"_ (sorry, that phrase has become a big of a George-ism!), even the five hours to Kingston was only just beginning to rile me at its conclusion.

In the whole of the first three years that Derek and Casey were at college, I think I visited once. That trip had involved a screaming four month old baby, seven hours in the car (RTA and a closed road) and an argument from hell with my husband. But Casey had been really homesick and I had a feeling Derek had something to do with it – so we went.

But Robbie was growing up, he was now nearly two and a half, and it was acceptable for me to be away from him for a while. And over the past four months, I had been away from him for three days every month.

It all started when Derek got back from England.

* * *

"It's no good, George. You need to do something about Derek."

We were washing up. It begged the question – there were three older children in the house. Why were _we_ washing up?

"Since when is it _me_ that needs to do something about Derek?"

"Since he's _your_ son." I retorted.

"For the first time in his life, I don't have a problem with his behaviour, you do." George said, pulling his marigolds higher up his wrists with a smack. It reminded me of a very sick comedy I had once seen.

"George. He's not himself."

My husband looked at me in astonishment. "And we're supposed to lament that?"

"That's unfair, Georgie. He's not that bad." I wondered how I got to be the good cop in this three-way familial relationship.

"Nora. He's calmed down. Let's be grateful for small mercies."  
"He's calmed down to the point where I think he's addicted to valium. This is not normal Derek behaviour. I think something happened while he was in England. Maybe he got dumped or something."

George laughed. "I have to admit. He is being a bit Casey-esque at the moment."

"Remind me again why I married you."

"What…now? In the middle of the kitchen?"

"No George. The other reason."

We grinned at each other.

"He's bothering you?" George asked me seriously.

I nodded. "I'm worried."

"I'll mind the kids for a long weekend if you fancy a trip to Kingston."

I laughed and kissed him soundly on the lips.

"That, my darlin'" I stated in a rich Irish brogue. "_that_ is why I married you."

George looked disappointed. "Oh…I thought it was for my…"

I smirked. "Believe me, hun, _that_ didn't go unnoticed either."

* * *

The following weekend, I drove to Kingston to see Derek. We warned him; wrapped it in some cloak of deception along the lines of measuring up for drapes for Casey. I even drove my work van and took the tools of my trade along with me.

Derek was a smart cookie, and I expected him to call me out on it. But, regardless, when I pulled up alongside the kerb I was glad I had come.

"Hi Nora." A tired looking Derek greeted me on the sidewalk, before I had even rung the bell. He had clearly been waiting for me, and I was surprised at how different he looked: subdued and remote. In some ways he reminded me of the quiet guy that used to worship Casey…Noel I think it was.

"Hi Derek."

"Come to check up on me?" He asked with a small smile. I smiled back as I shut the van door and started to walk up the path towards him. When I was close enough to see the dark rings around his eyes and the grey of his face, I threw an arm around his shoulders. He gripped me tightly and I think we both knew he was in pain.

"Wanna talk about it?" I asked.  
"No. But as you're here, you might as well make yourself useful."  
"Oh?"  
"How are your glossing skills?"

And then my "self-absorbed" step-son shocked the hell out of me again.

* * *

On that day, four months ago, Derek had taken me into the apartment and shown me the wallpaper he had already stripped from the walls. He had explained to me that he had sanded down the woodwork, and now needed to prep and paint it. He had asked for help to completely decorate his step-sister's home.

The Derek I had known since he was fifteen had gone, and in his place was a mature version. Still singing to his own tune, but clearly with hidden depths. It had only been three years since he "left" home. Apparently, they had been very formative ones.

When I took the proffered paint brush and set to work, he asked me not to tell Casey. He asked me to credit the transformation to me and George, and I agreed. I did joke that Casey would never believe that George had had a hand in the DIY. Derek had done an impressive job so far.

I didn't ask why Casey wasn't to know. Partly, because that's just the sort of relationship they have…_had._ Also, I knew if I just waited, he would tell me.

* * *

Here I was four months later, still none the wiser. Derek's reasons must be deep indeed, for both the decorating and the secrecy. But I had been taught the power of a woman's intuition by my grandmother. I hadn't given up yet.

My van rolled up outside Casey's apartment and as usual, Derek was looking for me and opened the door eagerly.

"Did you get it?" he asked as I exited the van.

I grinned. "Do you seriously doubt me?" We had developed quite the teasing relationship over the last four months. It was gentle and warm, and exactly the sort of relationship I hoped I would have with Robbie one day. My "real" son.

Don't get me wrong. I loved Derek in a maternal way. But, he was too old to be mothered when I first met him. With Derek there had been no tears in the middle of the night that only a mom can fix. There had been with Edwin. But Derek and I had never had the mother-son relationship. Even now, we were sort of friends; something which had developed over these decorating session.

He smirked. "No. Step-mom. Especially, since I know you probably got Ed to do it for you!" He was referring to my "doubting" comment.

"Damn! Busted!" I exclaimed.

Derek laughed and I nodded to the bags in the back of my van. Derek crossed to the back and pulled them free. We walked, joking with each other into the apartment as usual.

"It" was some fabric that I/Edwin had bid for on an auction web site for Casey. It was fabric my daughter and I had spotted together before she went to London. It had been out of our price range then.

"So what are you going to make with it?" Derek asked, having settled me with a cup of tea while I admired his latest paint efforts.

"I thought the curtains for her room and some throw cushions. What do you think?"  
"Sounds good to me, but hey, what do I know?"

"A hell of a lot. I'm impressed Derek, these last few months you've totally turned things around." I sipped thoughtfully at my tea. "Why won't you take the credit for this?"  
He sat down heavily on the arm of a sofa.

"If you told Casey that I'd done this, she would put the apartment back on the market faster than you can say 'makeover'."

"She's not that bad." I protested.

"She is when it comes to me."

"Okay. I admit it. Her judgement is a little screwed when it comes to you, but Derek there have been times when she has appreciated your efforts."  
He chuckled. "Nothing that she'd admit to in court."  
"Why did you do this?" I asked him directly for the first time.

"She's my…sister. Aren't I supposed to do ridiculously stupid things for her? Familial love and all that." He looked shifty.

"Not buying it Derek."

He didn't elaborate. He just picked thoughtfully at a bowl of chips on the side.

"Nora, you should know that I've applied for a transfer."

"A what?" I didn't understand.

"I've applied to transfer to college in Vancouver." Derek said it quietly. "I'm going to get an apartment and probably stay there over the summer."

"Vancouver? Why Vancouver?" Oh god! George was _not_ going to like this! There must be a girl involved. My eyes narrowed. "Does this have something to do with Sally?"

My step-son looked horrified. "What? No! Sally's getting married. I haven't thought about her like that in nearly three years."

"So why Vancouver?" I let my voice go soft again.

Derek stood up again and walked around the sofa, his fingers running through his hair nervously. I waited, not wanting to disturb him. Eventually, he settled down.

"I know about the Edwin incident." He said simply.

"Edwin incident?" I frowned.

There had been a few Edwin incidents lately. Then it hit me. Oh. _That_ incident.

Derek went on. "I can't be anywhere near Casey. If I am, the rumours will start up again. She doesn't deserve that."

Casey? This was about Casey?

"Derek. They'll blow over. Rumours always do."

He shook his head, sadly. The world-weariness that I had seen on my first visit four months ago and that I had got used to every month since intensified at the mention of my eldest daughter.

My intuition hit me with a vengeance.

"Derek. Did something happen in London?"

I watched as he closed his eyes against my question.

"No."

I took a deep breath.

"Did you want something to happen?"

"Nora. I get it. Okay? I know I have a reputation for dating a lot. But, Casey is my sister. It's a line I cannot cross." He sighed. "She should not have to put up with rumours of incest and pregnancy."

I snorted. "Incest! Technically…"

He rounded on me. "Technically nothing. It would be incest. The rumours are derogatory and damaging. They need to stop."

"Does Casey know you're leaving?"  
"No. And I don't want her to. I'm going to Vancouver next weekend for a visit to check the place out. I'd rather you didn't tell her."

Next weekend was when Casey was due home for the first time in a year. The timing could not be coincidental. Derek was going to avoid Casey.

That wouldn't work. What was he going to do? Avoid Casey for the rest of his life?

Derek picked up the fabric I had brought with me and moved towards Casey's bedroom.

"Come on. Let's get on with the curtains."

* * *

Sleep took a long time to come that night. The conversation I had had with Derek played through my mind.

Derek had changed over the years that I had known him. I had thought it was a gradual change, but his maturity today shocked me to the core. He had clearly thought long and hard about the rumours.

Should I be shocked that there were rumours? No. Even my own sister had delighted in telling me at every opportunity about a friend of hers whose son had got her own husband's daughter pregnant aged seventeen and the whole farce had descended into a soap opera that resulted in a divorce and custody battles. When she told me, she always switched topics immediately afterwards to asking how Casey was doing at college. Sometimes, I totally got the confrontational relationship my daughter had with her cousin – and the "icky Vicky" nickname. My own alliterative nickname for my sister Fiona is not repeatable in polite company.

Anyway, there were times, when they lived under the same roof, that I held my breath watching Derek and Casey fight. There were times where I seriously wondered which of two ways it would resolve itself. Would there be the cry of "Der-ek!" and then slamming doors.

Or would they give into the tension and fall into each other.

Part of me wondered if that was what had happened in London.

The one thing I was sure of. _Brothers_ do not change colleges to protect their _sisters_ from gossip.


	35. Nora II

If I had any doubts that something had happened in London, they evaporated the moment I saw Casey walk through the Arrivals gate at Toronto Airport.

The whole family had joined me to welcome her home.

All except one.

"Hi Mom!" My eldest daughter said with a false brightness I recognised a mile off. I had been her mother all her life. I know Casey. She was deeply unhappy.

She fell into my arms and I hugged her tightly; only a small part of the emotion between us was down to her return.

"Are you okay?" I asked in a low tone so that no one else heard.

"I'm OK Mom." She said, unconvincingly, but I knew that it was pointless to push it now. I stepped away and let everyone have their turn at hugging Casey. It gave me chance to examine her.

Her resemblance to Derek was staggering. Of course, they aren't related, and don't even share hair colour or eye colour. But, right now, in their manner, demeanour and overall looks…they could have been twins.

Casey had lost weight. It was weight she really didn't need to lose. Her skin lacked its usual lustre, and her blue eyes had lost their sparkle. She looked ill. I had seen her look like this before once when Dennis died. If I didn't know better, I would have said that Casey was grieving.

She looked _bereft_.

As the word sprung to mind, suddenly I realised it fitted Derek's countenance too.

We swept the prodigal into our group, and returned to the car to begin the journey home. George announced that as it was close to dinner time, we would be stopping off halfway to eat at Casey's favourite restaurant by way of a 'welcome home' treat.

"Thanks, George." My daughter said smiling, but the warmth never made it to her eyes. The old Casey had liked the restaurant for its vegetarian lasagne, but this Casey only picked at a salad.

After a week of her being home, I realised Casey was hardly eating at all.

* * *

It sounds horrible to say it, but I honestly think I found that first week of Casey's return almost as traumatic as Dennis' death. It was like watching my daughter dying in front of me. Casey's days followed the same routine.

She would get up in the morning, shower and dress. Although she took the same care as always with her appearance, she struggled to cover the puffiness of her eyes and their redness. At breakfast, she nibbled on a single piece of toast and sipped an orange juice. I don't think I ever saw her finish either. The usual conversations peppered the kitchen: Lizzie and Edwin discussing school, Marti looking for missing hair bands, Robbie running his cars along the floor. And Casey sat in the middle, oblivious.

She went to dance classes, visited a couple of friends who were home from college, but I never heard her laugh. At lunchtimes, she ate a small dish of salad and nothing more. Her afternoons were spent largely in her room, I hoped reading, but on the occasions I went up there, she appeared to be just lying on her bed, as if puzzling about something. She always flashed a small smile and entered into whatever conversation I had instigated. But, I could tell her heart wasn't in it.

By dinner time, when I was pulling my hair out, she was looking weary as if she had been working extremely hard. She ate the small meal I put in front of her reluctantly, and that concerned me because I put the same quantity on Robbie's plate.

After a week had gone by and all attempts to talk to my daughter had been rebuffed, I grew desperate.

"Is that Willow?" I didn't recognise the clear British voice at the other end of the phone, because I had only spoken to Casey's friend once. However, I possessed her phone number because Casey had given it to me many months ago as an emergency number.

"Speaking."

"Willow. This is Nora McDonald. Casey's mom."

"Thank God for that!" Came the reply. "Jesus, it took you long enough! I've been expecting you to call since she landed."

And that's when I really started to worry.

* * *

"I can't tell you what's wrong with Casey, because I don't know what's wrong with Casey." Willow told me after I had explained my concerns and she had initially answered with, 'oh god! I'd hoped that wasn't the case.'

"You see it all happened so suddenly, the depression, and she refused to talk to me about it."  
"Can you tell me about the time leading up to it?" I asked, desperate for a clue.

Willow sighed. "I think you should talk to Casey about it. I don't like betraying a friend's privacy."

"Your friend's need for privacy is killing her, Willow. She's not eating enough. The weight is falling off her." I said exasperated. "Just tell me."  
"The six of us had gone out for valentine's day: me, Casey, Lucy, Andy, James and Derek."

"Derek?" I queried.

"Yes."

"So Casey and James, and the rest of you?" I said, trying to fit my previous conceptions of Casey's friends in London into the scenario.

Willow sighed. I sensed this was the point she didn't want to share.

"Technically, Lucy was with James." Had Casey been dumped? No, I corrected myself. I had had my suspicions about Casey and James. But she had always told me they were just friends. Then Willow finished speaking.

"Casey was with Derek."

"Define 'with'." I asked.

"I can't Nora. Because I honestly don't know."

I let out a breath. "But you think something was going on?"

There was a pause. "There were some indications…yes."

"Tell me." I pleaded.

"Nora…" Willow warned.

"Tell me. She's not in trouble – well at least not with me. I just want to help my daughter."

"Derek came to see Casey the day he landed in London." I made a noise of acknowledgement. "And as far as I know, he spent nearly the whole week with her."

I hoped my surprise didn't show in my voice.

"As a couple?"

Willow laughed. "An old married couple. They fought like cat and dog."

"That's the first thing you've said today that doesn't surprise me."

"We all went out a few times, which were the only times I actually saw them together. They may have been arguing, but, they stayed close to each other, held hands. I don't know much more than that. She seemed really happy."

I sensed she wasn't telling me something, but, this was almost enough.

"When did she stop smiling?"

"The night before Derek was due to leave they bailed on us earlier than expected." She paused. "To be honest, at the time, I sort of thought they were going somewhere because they wanted to be alone. You know, because he was leaving the next day. When she turned to say goodbye, however, there were tears in her eyes and she was holding her mobile phone."

My turn to be quiet.

"Nora? Are you still there?"

I coughed. "Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking. It seems fairly obvious that they were dating then?"

"Not obvious. You had to be here to understand what I'm saying. In front of me, they could have just been really good friends."

"And the last four months?" I prompted.

"Have been hell. I've been fighting to get her to eat. She's been attending lectures and completing her obligations, but…she's not Casey. I was sort of hoping that she would be better on home ground. We all were. James is as worried as I am."

I could hear Lizzie and Edwin coming in from school, so I needed to finish the call.

"I have to go. Thanks for being honest with me Willow. I'll let you know how things go on."

"You aren't going to punish her if they were involved, are you?"  
"No. But if my step-son took advantage of my daughter, he won't know what hit him."

"Do you think that's likely?"

I thought back to Derek in Casey's apartment all those miles away and the grief in his own eyes.

"No. I don't."

Before I hung up, I needed to know one more thing. "Willow. You say this all happened on Valentines Day?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Nothing. It's just we had a little drama of our own that day. Anyway, thanks for your time. I'll be in touch."

I hung up, thoughtful. Valentine's Day, although a Sunday was the day that the Principal of Lizzie and Edwin's school had turned up on the doorstep to discuss the Edwin incident and the rumours further.

I wondered who had told Derek and Casey.

* * *

I have been married twice and neither man has entirely turned out to be the husband I expected. Dennis, so careful and attentive at university became distant as a corporate lawyer, gradually pulling himself away from family life. And then there was George, who came across as slap-dash and disorganised, but paid attention to details Dennis would never have seen. Both men were intelligent, one driven, the other laid back. One was a disappointment, the other definitely not.

I love Derek's father with a passion I did not know I had in me, even though the love came slow burning through the shared pain of divorce-hood. That he loved me equally I had no doubt. I think I know him. But he still surprises me.

"It's Casey, isn't it?" He said as we prepared to go to sleep that night.

The question startled me. I wasn't sure what he would make of Willow's news, so I was reluctant to share.

"What is?"

"The problem with Derek…it's Casey."

I loved the fact that once his attention was drawn to the issue of Derek, he hadn't stopped thinking about it. He was a good father.

I blew out a breath and sat down on the bed. "It might be…yes."

"Which of the rumours?" He asked.

"I don't know. Willow thinks something was going on in London, but she's not sure what."

"Willow?"

"Casey's friend in London. I phoned her."

George looked at me with a frown. "Nora. That's invading Casey's privacy."

The protective nature over _my_ daughter was endearing. Especially as I knew his curiosity was as great as mine.

"I'm worried about her, Georgie. Anyway, Willow says, something was up between them, but nothing overt. She says Casey's unhappiness started on the 14th February."

"Valentine's day?" George queried. "But that's when…"

"Yeah. I know."

We talked on about what Willow had said and the state that Casey was in.

"So are you going to postpone the visit to Queen's then?" He asked eventually.

Casey and I were planning to visit her new apartment in two days time.

"No. I still think we should go."

"You're probably right. But, do me one favour?"

"Which is?"

"Tell Derek first."


	36. Uncle Derek

I was watching Casey pick up her daughter from kindergarten. She was still the same beautiful girl I had fallen in love with, even if she cleverly altered the shade of her hair colour these days. She was wearing a smart skirt and jumper and she was undoubtedly the most attractive mother there; her blue eyes smiling to match her lips. She melted my heart every time.

I saw the teacher move towards the main door, to let the children out to join their parents and my breathing hitched. This would go one of two ways.

On a good night, the teacher would smile up at me and call to the little girl with Casey's smile, "Ooh look Letty! Daddy's here with Mommy!"

On a bad night, I would be "Uncle Derek".

Tonight was definitely a bad night. Tonight, Casey's child was a boy who looked like Truman.

.

Dreaming about Casey was nothing new. She featured heavily in my life so I had dreamt about her on and off since the day I first met her. I couldn't tell you when the dreams started to turn into fantasies, but since Dennis' death, most of the dreams involved Casey's child. Normally, I starred as the father.

It had been four months since I left London and the wounds hadn't healed. I had managed to immerse myself into my routine life well enough, but the events in London were never far from my mind – and neither was my co-defendant. I thought about her all the time, especially while painting her apartment.

There had been no communication between us since that kiss goodbye. There could be no communication. The emails and letters of the past year belonged to the couple that had parted. Casey and I were brother and sister now. Much as I hated that version, the dream I should be having was the one of me as 'Uncle Derek'.

The scene in the dream would never happen, because I would not hang around to watch Casey become a wife and mother. The dream images were bad enough so I knew that I could never endure the reality of Casey married to someone else. She would be faithful to them, because Casey was a decent person, so she would never speak of it again but I would always wonder when she looked up into my eyes, whether or not she still loved me.

For both our sakes, decorating her apartment was my swansong before I entered into self-imposed exile. I would not cut myself off from my family, but once I left for Vancouver, I would not see Casey McDonald again.

* * *

I can't say I didn't have any warning. Nora had emailed me and told me that they were coming. I had aimed to be out of the apartment and had arranged to crash at Tom's for two nights. But just before their anticipated arrival time, I realised that I had left an important assignment at home which was due in at four pm. I would have to go back for it.

As I unlocked the door to the apartment, I prayed for heavy traffic or some other – safe – delay; a delay which would mean that their expected arrival time of two pm would actually be nearer three. Just long enough for me to dash in grab the assignment and make a clean getaway.

No such luck. As I turned to leave my bedroom, I heard Nora's key in the lock and I stood stock still. They entered through the front door, Nora telling Casey about the apartment, and I just caught her soft replies. She sounded subdued, tired even. Unable to escaped, I just waited until they spotted me.

Nora spoke first. "Hi Derek!" She sounded falsely cheerful as if she knew how excruciating this was going to be. I said nothing. I could not move my eyes away from Casey.

Something had changed since I last saw her, because the girl in front of me was different somehow. She was thin, _so_ thin! She looked tired, withdrawn and fragile. Her eyes were cast down, so she didn't see me watching her, and for that I was glad. She was beautiful and I loved her, but she looked a wreck – and I didn't want her to see that on my face. I glanced up into Nora's eyes in horror. She stared back, and there was almost a challenge there.

"I forgot something." I said, admitting the reason for my presence. "I should go. I have class." I made for the open door and Nora stopped me.

"Derek. We're going for dinner later. I'd…like you to come too." She was trying to tell me something. My gaze shifted back to Casey. To my surprise she was looking up at me, her eyes dark and haunted.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Nora was waiting for my response and when I turned back to her, I knew the subtext to her invitation. _I don't know what's wrong with her either, but I'm hoping you'll help me find out._

I nodded. "Class finishes at five. I'll be back then."

"Thank you."

And then I left.

* * *

"D man. You okay?" Tom greeted me as I arrived panting in time for class. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I feel like I have." He raised an eyebrow.

"Casey just arrived. She looks fucking bad!" It hurt to admit it.

"Bad in what way?" Tom's voice was concerned.

"Like she's ill. Only just hanging on. She's lost so much weight, and her eyes…_fuck!_"

"What does Nora say?"

"She hasn't said anything yet. She's invited me for dinner tonight."

"You going to go? You were going to avoid Casey like the plague."

I ran my hand through my hair. "I need to get to the bottom of it Tom. I can't leave until I know what's wrong. I need to know that she is going to be okay."  
He slapped me on the back. "Maybe you can figure out what's wrong with you at the same time."

I shook my head at him. "Don't start that again."  
"Jesus Derek! Casey isn't the only one screwed up. And I'll bet anything you like that it's that London business behind this."  
"It was her decision, Tom."

"Doesn't mean she liked it."

I shook my head and took my seat as the lecturer arrived.

* * *

I was slightly early back to the apartment, so I managed time for a shower. Nora was in the kitchen making a cup of tea when I emerged dressed, but she was alone. I raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Lying down. She's constantly tired these days."

"What the hell's wrong with her?" I demanded.

"Shhh. It's like treading on egg shells with her as it is."  
"Is she ill?"  
"Not physically."

"She's lost what…eight pounds?"

"Nearer fourteen. And she didn't weigh that much in the first place."

"Why?" Nora understood I meant the weight loss.

"She's not eating. Willow tells me she hasn't been eating properly for nearly four months."

I leaned against the kitchen units and closed my eyes, rubbing them with my fingers.

"What caused it?"

Nora straightened. "I was hoping you could tell me that."

_Oh fuck!_

I shrugged. I hated lying to her, but I could hardly turn around and tell Casey's mother – my step-mother – that…well you get the message.

"Did she find out about the rumours?" Nora asked and I saw a way out.

"Yeah. They really got to her."

"There's more to it though, isn't there?" Damn, Nora was good!

I didn't answer.

"Derek. I can't go into it now. Casey will be out in a minute. I need you to put this right. I will not lose my daughter."

"I'm not sure I can put it right." I admitted.

"If you had any hand in this screw up, Derek, you _will_ put it right!"

I took a deep breath under the intense scrutiny of my step-mom.

Her gaze softened. "And while you do so, honey, sort yourself out. You look like shit."

* * *

We ate at a little Italian; Nora almost single-handedly keeping the silence at bay. She talked about the apartment and the décor. Casey replied, and I could tell she really liked what we had done to her new home but, she was just too weak to gush like the Casey I knew.

I wanted her back to normal.

When we arrived and sat down, She barely glanced at the menu and chose a salad. I allowed my eyes to flick upwards, but she was looking away. When we had all chosen and were waiting for the waiter to make our order, Casey decided to go to the bathroom and Nora opted to go with her. They told me their choices and disappeared.

The waiter came while they were gone and I ordered, choosing a bottle of white wine to go with the meal as we had walked from the apartment and didn't have to worry about driving.

They returned, and I looked hopefully at Nora to see if Casey had been more forthcoming in their absence, but she shook her head. Once seated, the conversation again reverted to soft furnishings, and when the wine came, I sipped it immediately.

The waiter brought our food and Casey frowned.

"I didn't order pasta." She said. The waiter looked across at me.

"No. I did." I said. "You can have the salad as well, but you are eating the pasta." My tone was unrelenting. Her eyes flashed up to mine.

"You can't tell me what to eat Derek." She insisted.

I smiled coldly. "Try me."

Sensing that pushing me further would result in _a scene_, Casey rolled her eyes and nodded to the waiter who relaxed. When the food was in place and the waiter had retreated, Nora and I started to eat but Casey sat with her hands in her lap.

I put down my own fork and folded my hands in my lap, glaring at her.

Nora, bless her, followed suit.

Several minutes passed and none of us ate. The waiter came over.

"Is everything okay with your meal?" He asked. I tilted my head towards Casey, and the waiter looked at her questioningly. She sighed audibly.

"It's lovely…thank you." She muttered and reluctantly, picked up her fork and began to eat.

Nora caught my eye and grinned broadly.

Casey kept her eyes to her plate, but she ate every mouthful and the salad.

When the dessert menu was produced, Casey declined. I coughed. She ordered Mississippi Mud Pie and Chantilly cream. It was bigger than mine and Nora's dessert put together – and she ate the lot.

"I have to hand it to you, Derek. You're a miracle worker." Nora said later when we were all back at the apartment and Casey was again in bed.

"We aren't out of the woods yet."

"No I know. But just seeing her eat a meal…" Nora's voice trailed away. "Derek. What happened in London?"  
I scratched my head. "Nothing."  
"Derek…"

"Nora. Casey and I were good friends. The rumours started at school, and we decided not to be friends anymore. Nothing "happened"."

"And if the rumours hadn't started?" She pushed.

I closed my eyes against the prick of something that I swore I never gave into. Tears.

"Then we would still be…_friends._"

"Just friends?"

I ignored the question.

"Derek…"

She was _fucking relentless!_

"No. Probably not."

There. I just admitted to my step-mother that I had once felt something other that filial love for my step-sister. Bolt of lightning, strike me down!

Nora smiled gently. "Thank you…for admitting it."

"It was Casey's decision, Nora. I never did anything to hurt her. I never…touched her." For some reason I needed her to know this.

"I know Derek."  
"It meant something, Nora."

"I know Derek." She sighed. "Be honest with yourself at least. It still does."

I stared at her and then she pulled me into her arms and hugged me till I felt one of the traitorous wet things slide from my right eye.

* * *

Midnight.

I had planned to be at Tom's tonight, because Nora was sleeping in my room and I didn't want to sleep on the couch. But after my honesty session with Nora, I didn't have the energy. I curled up under a spare comforter on the couch and watched late night TV with the sound turned down.

I couldn't sleep.

If I dropped off, I was convinced I would see the bad dream. I would be Uncle Derek. But what scared me more than anything was how Casey would look in the dream.

That instead of the beautiful woman I loved, she would be broken and scarred.


	37. Change Of Plan

I woke in the morning to the sound of Nora on the phone.

"Oh god George! Is she okay?"

I sat up instantly on the sofa, my mind flying to Marti and Lizzie.

"No. No. You're right. You should be in the office handling it. Get Mrs H-bomb to sit with them, I'll grab Casey and get on the road as soon as I can. No. No. I'll drive safely. We don't need another RTA."

She hung up, and I leaned forward expectantly.

"Your dad's business partner had an accident last night. She's okay, but George needs to go into the office and deal with rescheduling all her court cases. I have to go home. Mrs H-Bo – Mrs Higginbotham can only cope for so long."

I smiled at her slip.

"It's a pain because Casey was supposed to see her tutors today."

"Leave her here. I'll bring her back at the weekend." I said, surprising myself. Nora's eyes widened.

"Really?"  
"Yeah. It'll give me chance to see if I can shake her out of this funk." _Her and me._ I added to myself.

"Let me go talk to Casey, but that would really help. Thanks Derek."

Nora knocked on Casey's door and went in.

Five minutes later, she emerged.

"She's not too impressed at the idea, but she admits she needs to see her tutors so she's agreed. Promise me you two won't come to blows." She said with an ironic smile.

I laughed. "I promise."

"I need to go change and then I'll be off."

"Sure."

* * *

Casey surfaced an hour later, sleepy and dressed in a bathrobe I knew she had bought in England, and a pair of ballet pump-style slippers. She came through to the kitchen where I was making breakfast.

Yup. Derek Venturi does Breakfast.

Bacon, eggs, toast, mushrooms and those little potatoes that you sometimes get. (I'd been practising since I'd had my own apartment – or rather Casey's).

I had decided to cook breakfast because Casey needed feeding up. When Nora left an hour ago, I had gone to the little seven-eleven-style shop on the corner and bought groceries.

I loaded up a plate, poured a cup of coffee and a glass of juice and pushed them towards Casey. She had perched herself at the kitchen table, wordlessly.

"You can't bully me, Derek." She finally said looking at the breakfast, her voice weak.

"Not trying, princess. Eat please." I said it calmly, considerately but not at all romantically. I aimed for brotherly and though I wasn't sure I hit the mark, she picked up the knife and fork and started to eat.

"I'm only doing this because you'll tell Lizzie if I throw good food away." She stated. I smirked.

"You know me too well."

Casey said nothing, but she continued to eat until the plate was empty. She stood and walked towards the door. After a couple of steps, she paused.

"Thanks bro." She said flatly and went back to her room.

That statement should have hurt. It should have cut through my heart like a hot knife, but it didn't. She had eaten, not because she wanted to, but because I asked her to. And her "bro" comment, coupled with her current demeanour, told me more than words could. This was _all_ because of us.

Casey was hurting just like me.

* * *

Now I knew for sure that it was _our_ situation, I worried less. I knew I could deal with this. My biggest fear had been that something had happened after I left; that she had been attacked or worse.

I still worried though. She was painfully thin and withdrawn, and resistant to my help.

There were two nights until the weekend and Casey had agreed to return with me on Friday. I had two nights to get her straightened out.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't going to try to change her mind about us. I just wanted to get to the point where we could discuss things reasonably. Talk to each other like adults.

And if she insisted on it, like brother and sister.

* * *

I had a class first thing so I cleaned the kitchen ( Don't laugh), showered and changed. When I emerged from my room, bag packed and ready to go, Casey was standing in the hall with her coat on.

"Did Nora give you a key?" I asked. She shook her head. I went into the kitchen and took one of the spare sets from a dish on the window sill then I passed it to Casey.

"Welcome home, Space-case." I said quietly. She rolled her eyes, but as she turned to leave, I saw the slight upturn to her mouth.

We left the house together, and I walked to my car.

"Are you going to the main campus?" I asked. She nodded. "Hop in. I'll give you a lift." Casey did so, and I was left with the feeling that I was sharing the car with a complete stranger.

But this was the woman I had held in my arms at night on numerous occasions. This was the woman whose _snoring_ turned me on. I laughed at myself. I would always laugh at myself when it came to Casey. That sort of feeling…you just don't dwell on.

I dropped her near her faculty office and went to park. As I emerged from the car, Tom found me.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I asked.

"How was the dinner date from hell?"

For some reason I laughed.

"You mean how was dinner with my mother and my sister? Actually, it was an uplifting experience."

"Oh?"  
"I bullied Casey into eating. I think she hated me last night."

He laughed. "You two are fucking weird. Only you could get off on the fact your girlfriend hates you."  
"Girlfriend? Have you been burying your head in the sand for the past four months, Tom?"

He chuckled. "Not _me_. Derek. You could screw the entire cheerleading squad, and I'd still say the only girl you're involved with was Casey McDonald." He stopped and looked at me. "You look better today."

"Thanks. I have a purpose in life."

He smirked. "Let me guess. Pissing Casey off."

What could I do but turn and grin?

* * *

My culinary skills only extended so far. That night I ordered pizza.

Casey had made her own way back to the apartment and was now ensconced in her bedroom. The pizza arrived and I banged on her door.

"If you don't come out now, I'll give you the 'Meaty Feast' pizza rather than the vegetarian special."

She ripped open the door, and I could tell she wasn't happy. She stomped over to the couch and sat down but she ate the pizza.

I may be a sappy lovesick puppy, but _I _at least still eat. As well as the pizzas, I bought potato chips…and chocolate. The latter was rather a dirty move, as I was sure even the most depressed Casey would break for chocolate…and maybe ice cream.

I had that as well.

Casey said nothing. She sat on the couch in her own apartment, scoffing pizza, sipping a peppermint tea, with a 'this is complete torture' look on her face.

Me…sick bastard that I am, found a re-run of a hockey game and insisted on watching it.

"Tell me why I shouldn't just evict you from _my_ home." Casey stated. I smirked noting how she had failed to ignore me after so short a period of time.

"I'm making chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?"

There was a pause as she realised I wasn't being a total shit.

"Can't you record this, and watch it when I go to bed?" Casey's idea of compromise?

"No."

"Der-ek!" And we have lift off! Casey resorts to the tried and tested way of dealing with Derek Venturi.

Oh god…I'm so good. Maybe I should just take a fucking degree in psychology.

* * *

"You look like that cat that got the cream, smoked salmon _and_ the fishcakes." Tom said as I walked into class the next day.

"She's eating again."

"Yeah you said."

"No. Not just eating…she's snacking. She ate half a pack of Doritos, and a bowl of rocky road last night. On top of the vegetarian pizza with extra cheese I guilted her into."

"Is this healthy? You two…the most depressing case for eternal love I ever saw and you want nothing better than to manipulate, cajole and blackmail each other."

"Tom, Tom, Tom…"

He interrupted.

"Will you stop that? You make me sound like a GPS system."

I grinned. "This is Casey. This is me. It's just the way it is. Some things will never change."  
"If you don't stop quoting frigging Bruce Hornsby I'm going to knock you into next week."

I continued with the Hornsby quotes. "'But I can't change my mind, Oh I knew all the time that she'd go, But that's a choice I made a long time ago.'"

"You know, the really _sad_ thing is, I'm actually _happy_ to see you like this?"

I chuckled and Tom grumbled.

* * *

"Look at it this way, Case. Tomorrow, we go home and you get to ignore my ass." My logic was flawless. All she had to do was _eat_.

"I was raised as a lady. I went to a private girls' school to _become_ a lady…I'm not going to respond to that."  
I shrugged enough. "Did Nora get a refund?"

"Fuck off."

If it wasn't for the fact I wanted to kiss every inch of her fantastic body yet if I went near her she would flay me, I would actually enjoy these fights.

Who am I fucking kidding? I'd miss rink-side tickets to the IIHF World Championship just to go one round with Casey Mc (he's my _step-brother_) Donald.

I love her.

And she knew it.

Sometimes I was even insane enough to think it might still be reciprocated.

* * *

Our last night in Kingston, Casey followed the pattern of the night before. She ate "reluctantly", moaned about my choice of television and then after an hour, took herself off to bed.

I didn't care.

There was colour in her cheeks where there had been none and although the twinkle was still absent, she looked a hell of a lot better now. It would take a few days for the food to show on her hips, but if I kept up this training programme, Casey Mc Donald would soon be her old self.

Of course, by 'old self' I meant the teenaged girl I used to loathe. She would hate me with a passion, but it would be her salvation. I would put us back into hatred mode and she would survive. It would take a while. But it would happen.

I would do it, so that when I walked permanently away from her, it wouldn't hurt her.

She would cope.


	38. George Rebooted

Thank god for in-car stereos because Casey said nothing to me for over an hour on the drive home. She looked out of the window at the passing scenery and didn't even react when I put my foot down and managed to coax eighty miles an hour out of my rust heap of a car.

Sighing, I eased off the gas pedal and settled at a more normal speed.

"You're no fun." I moaned. Her head lifted and turned to me, a broad grin on her face.

"I learnt a long time ago that sometimes with you, it pees you off more when I don't react than when I do." She admitted.

Manipulative Casey was back. I thought about that for a while and decided it was progress.

"How's James?" I asked, remembering that there were people I considered friends for a brief time in London.

She raised an eyebrow and I remembered that at one time I had exhibited something bordering on jealously in regards to their relationship. Okay, okay. I thought he was screwing her. I knew better now.

"Fine, I think. I didn't see as much of him for a while."  
"He spending time with Lucy?" I guessed.

"Something like that."

"And Willow?"

"She's okay." Casey said it quietly and turned her head away. At first I thought it was that she didn't want to talk to me. But then she sighed.

"I've not been particular social just recently."

I realised that she had been "low" in England as well as Canada and her friendships had suffered. I glanced at her and then back at the road.

"You should call them. Maybe invite them over. You've got your own place now, and I'm sure they could afford the tickets."

Casey looked at me as if I was insane, sitting up and opening her mouth to say something, but then she relaxed against the seat as she processed what I had said.

"Maybe." She said eventually. "I'll think about it."

I grinned. "See not all the crap I speak is bad. Some times I even have good ideas."

"I heard a rumour to that effect, but I'm still not convinced." She smiled a genuine smile, which was almost normal. I wanted to stop the car, pull her to me and kiss her senseless. Instead, I laughed and rolled my eyes.

"Oh ye of little faith."

"How's Tom?" Casey asked a moment later.

"The same as ever."  
"Still a skirt-chasing cad?"

"Do people still use that phrase these days?"

"For people like Tom they do." She stated, quite accurately as it happens. "I miss him."

I turned my eyes to her in shock.

"He's a good guy, Derek. A good guy with a serious problem with monogamy, but he's still a good guy. He's always been good to you."  
"I know. I'm just surprised you know that." Eyes back to the road.  
She shrugged. "I had a drink with him a couple of times."

"You did what?!"

"After you and I stopped spending time together in the first year, Tom called me."

"I'll bet he did!" I hissed. I was going to have words with my best friend.

"Relax Derek. He did it to try and broker a peace treaty between us. He even insisted I bring Rosie with me."

There was a moment's quiet. "Of course, he probably just wanted in her pants." Casey admitted.

"He'd never come out of it alive."

We laughed.

"Case?"

"Hmmm?"  
"Seriously, hun. You need to eat more." I said.

"So do you. You look like crap."

I guess I did. I was eating because Derek Venturi not eating was never an option, not even over Casey. But I was not normal. Nora had noticed and I had brushed her comments away.

Different matter when Casey noticed.

It was always different with Casey.

* * *

It seemed only natural after that to switch to talking about the family. We shared anecdotes, although I did most of the talking because Casey had spent only two weeks with them in the past year, and she was divorced from reality at the moment. So was I, but four months ago I had been normal. I hoped we were both on the road back in more ways than one. I wanted us to be a family again.

Family.

There was never any escaping the fact she was my step-sister. God only knows the times I wanted to wipe that description from the English language, but it refused to budge.

We arrived in London, Ontario mid-afternoon and if I thought there had been enough upset in our family, clearly a higher power thought I was wrong.

Fiona and Harry were at our house. Remember them? Nora's sister and her husband…I'd say second husband but I wasn't actually clear on the status of Icky Vicky's natural father. If she was anything like Nora, Vicky will have been conceived in wedlock, but having seen the daughter, I wasn't convinced about the mother.

It appeared that a "disaster" of epic proportions had occurred: a bust pipe, significant flooding, and a displaced couple needing a bed…for a month.

I was sure Nora's definition of "disaster" was different to her sister. Whilst they both shared the tragedy of the situation, Nora's viewpoint was more the intrusion into our home. Nora was, without doubt, a lovely person who did everything for everyone, but, knowing Nora and knowing Fiona, I knew the next month would be painful.

* * *

"Aunt Fiona!" Casey said, her tone surprised but not necessarily in a good way. "How are you?"

"Casey! Darling! It's been so long!" Fiona threw herself at Casey and as she squeezed her looked over her shoulder at me. "And…Derek."

Could my name really be a portent for disaster? I hoped not, but the way Fiona said it…

"Fiona." I acknowledged.

Casey's aunt pulled back to hold her at arms length. She looked at Casey then looked at me then back to Casey. I wondered if she had heard the rumours.

At her last glance at Casey, I wondered if she had _started_ the rumours.

"I need to talk to Dad. I'll catch up with you later." I wasn't sure who I aimed that comment at, but either way following through on it was probably not a good idea. I should stay away from Casey this weekend. Well away.

Nora cornered me in the kitchen.

"Derek!" She said, relieved.

"Relax Nora, she didn't eat me alive."

"Are we talking Fiona or Casey?"

I laughed. "Your sister. You might want to go rescue Casey."

She grinned. "She looks better. What did you do to her?"

I shrugged. "Fed her."

"How the hell did you manage that?"  
"I asked her to eat."

Nora looked at me with the eyes of a woman who _knows too much_. "That figures."

Dad came in then and I got lost in a round of hellos.

* * *

My suspicions about Fiona turned out to be accurate. She had suspicions of her own. She watched Casey like a hawk and there was at least one occasion where I swear she was looking for stretch marks. When it wasn't Casey under her scrutiny, it was me, and when we were together, her eyes darted about like she was on speed or watching a tennis grand slam.

Casey hated it.

I knew this because Lizzie told me. And then Edwin and finally Marti. Marti's approach was to throw herself on top of me in the recliner and plead with me to "Be a proper hero and rescue your princess".

I couldn't. I wasn't allowing myself anywhere near her.

This went against my plans for the weekend. I had scheduled more subtle bullying and a resulting weight gain. But, with Fiona looking for ammunition as regards Casey and me hooking up, I daren't.

"Ignore it, Derek." Dad said as I raided the fridge yet again Saturday afternoon. "She's just looking for other people's excitement to spice up her rather dismal life."

"I didn't know you enjoyed Lassiter's company that much, dad." I meant his calm acceptance of the rumours.

He sipped his mug of coffee. "Fiona wasn't responsible for that rumour. And Lassiter and I have reached an amicable agreement."

I raised an eyebrow. Dad elaborated.

"He won't penalise Edwin for sticking up for himself and I won't sue the pants off the school for defamation of character."

Defamation of character. That implied that a relationship between me and Casey was a nasty thing, a degrading thing. I said nothing.

"I'm talking about the school allowing rumours about Casey being pregnant to run wildfire. Nothing more." Dad said quietly. My eyes shot up and met his.

_Shit!_ One not-so-clueless parent I could cope with. Two…

He smiled suddenly.

"Changing the subject slightly. I believe you have some news for me."

I frowned. "Oh?"

"Vancouver?"

I took a deep breath.

"Oh."

"When were you going to tell me?"  
"It doesn't matter, Dad."

My father slammed his mug down on the surface. "It doesn't matter? You are about to move to the other side of Canada, probably for good and you tell me it doesn't matter?!"

I opened my mouth, but he interrupted. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"Because I wasn't sure. It doesn't matter Dad."

"Yes Derek it does."  
"No Dad it doesn't." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I'm not going."  
He looked shocked. "Why?"

"I applied because I wanted a break from…family. But, now I've decided I can't afford a break from family."

George suddenly looked like the lawyer he was. "Because "family" needs you?" he asked putting a significant emphasis on the word "family". I wondered if my father's operating system had undergone a software upgrade because he had never been this astute before.

"She's broken, Dad. Realistically, I think I'm the only one who can fix her."

I don't think I had ever been that honest either.

"Nora's worried about her." Dad stated. We still hadn't said _her_ name.

"So am I."

"You know what caused it?" He sipped his coffee again.

"I've got a pretty good idea." I admitted.

Dad sighed. "Did you screw up?"

I chuckled humourlessly. "For once, no. I was the perfect gentleman."

"Good. I'd hate to kick your ass to Timbuctoo."

"Don't throw away your steel caps yet. I can't guarantee I won't screw up in the future."

"Do you love her?"

Seriously? Forget software upgrade, I think he had his entire motherboard replaced.

I didn't answer, but I guess he knew.

* * *

We made it to Sunday evening but the weekend was torture. Fortunately for me, I was returning to Kingston in the morning as I still had four more weeks of classes. Casey was staying here to spend some time with the family. Much as I cared about her, a large part of me was glad I wouldn't be around to see that disaster.

I could count on one hand the number of conversations I had had with Casey since we arrived home. I had managed to keep her eating by casting pointed looks at her during meals times. She would kick me under the table and pull a face. It became a little game.

Having the extra couple in the house meant space was at a premium and I had spent the whole weekend sleeping on the sofa so that Casey's aunt could have my room. I didn't mind too much. I can sleep anywhere, and it gave me unrestricted access to the television in the living room when everyone had gone to bed, but it didn't give me a lot of privacy. It briefly crossed my mind that might be the purpose.

Harder to seduce the ol' step-sis in the living room.

I chuckled in the recliner, as I watched late night beach volley ball. If that had seriously been my game I would have sneaked up to her room.

I was still laughing to myself over the whole "creeping about the house for illicit assignations with Casey" thing when I heard a noise behind me in the dark. I turned my head to see the woman herself sneaking down the stairs.

* * *

**AN: In case you hadn't guessed, I've revised my chapter plan. I have absolutely no idea when this is ending. I'm letting Casey and Derek work it out on their own.**


	39. Kingston

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, clinging onto the rail. It was very late, but she was dressed in jeans and a pretty top which hugged her figure. Her hair curled around her shoulders, and her face, clean of make-up was still beautiful.

"Hi." Her whispered greeting was accompanied by a small smile.

"Hi." I replied equally quietly.

There was silence for a moment and then her eyes lit onto the TV screen.

"Beach volley ball, Derek?" Her tone spoke volumes. I shrugged. "Is this your version of porn?" She continued.

"Nope. I do porn too." I said honestly, muting the TV. "Just not when I'm likely to get caught.

Casey rolled her eyes and moved further into the room. Before I knew it she was standing beside the recliner staring down at me.

"I suppose I did ask." She said, sighing. I looked up at her smiling.

"I'm a guy. I haven't had sex in more than eighteen months. What do you expect?"

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. "Why don't I believe that?" her voice was both hopeful and distrusting at the same time.  
"Believe what you like. I'm being honest here." I was too. Totally honest. I couldn't actually remember when the last time was. I could remember the girl of course, I just couldn't remember the date. It had been a while before Dennis died though.

Casey moved to the sofa and sat down. "Why no sex?"

Okay, let's go to hell on a broomstick. "Because unlike Tom, I can do monogamy."

"Monogamy?" She questioned softly.

"I'm a one-woman guy, Case."

"Who?" She asked unnecessarily. My expression was one of disbelief.

Her eyes closed. "Me?" It was so quiet I almost missed it.

"You seriously need to ask?" I whispered back. In my mind I elaborated. _ I told you I love you. I mean it._

"Oh god." She breathed and her head sank into her hands as a depression swam over her.

I waited, the TV forgotten. This was not ideal. I wasn't exactly sure what reaction I expected, because I hadn't planned to confess to Casey, but I had at least been honest. How did I rate an "oh god"?

Eventually, Casey's head came back up, and she looked ragged.

"I can't do this, Derek." She murmured. I expected it, but my heart still sank.

"Do what?"

"This." She waved her arms in a sweeping gesture, encompassing her, me, the living room and the whole house. She couldn't do "us". I already knew that. It still hurt like hell.

"Fiona left a birth control leaflet on my comforter this evening, with a note about avoiding mistakes." She told me, explaining why she was in a worse funk than earlier.

"Oh shit." I straightened in the chair.

"How can these people who know me so well think that I would be so rash as to…"  
"Sleep with your brother?"

Okay, it might have sounded a little terse.

"Derek, please…" Her shoulders slumped. "I need to get away from all this." She sounded desperate.

"Kingston?" I asked wondering if it was _me_ she needed to get away from. She nodded.

"It's the only place I can afford to go to."

"You want a lift in the morning?" I had to go back too. I would find somewhere else to live when we got there. Casey shook her head.

"I want to go now. I can't stay here with Fiona's constant niggling."

It was 1am and Casey wanted to _leave_?

"Okay. We'll leave now. Just make sure you go say good bye to your mom so she doesn't think I killed you and hid the body." She smiled then we both stood up. I stretched and switched off the TV.

"I'll meet you in the car in ten minutes, okay? I just need to pack." My stuff was in Edwin's room, but he would sleep through an earthquake. Casey nodded and disappeared down to the basement to wake our parents.

I climbed the stairs quickly to Edwin's room and threw the few things I had brought with me back into a bag, remembering my laptop, phone and chargers. Edwin didn't move a muscle. As I climbed down from the attic, however, I realised I couldn't go without kissing Marti goodbye, so I detoured to her room.

She woke instantly.

"Smerek?" She asked, blinking.

"Sorry Smarts. I'm going back to Kingston. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Now? It's still the middle of the night."

"Yeah I know. I'm doing what you told me to do. Rescuing my princess."

"Fiona got to Casey?"

I nodded. "Yeah."  
Marti smiled sleepily. "I knew you'd look after her. Thank you."

I planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Go back to sleep honey. I'll see you in a few weeks."

My little sister nodded and closed her eyes.

* * *

"Are you awake enough to drive?" Casey asked as we left the outskirts of London.

"It's a bit late to ask that, isn't it?" I said. I was awake though. I had dozed for some of the afternoon, and potentially a bit this evening in the recliner, but I couldn't swear to it.

"Let me know if you want me to take over." She bit her lip. "Thanks for this D. Uncharacteristic of me, huh?"  
I shrugged. "You aren't in a good place at the moment. If being there made you feel worse…"

"That's what mom said. Actually, she was more understanding than I had expected." Casey chuckled. "In fact, she asked if there was room in the car for her!"

I laughed with her and we lapsed into a companionable silence.

The car ate up the miles quickly as there was no traffic. We stopped for a break at a twenty four hour rest stop and had a coffee.

"Case. I've sort of screwed up a bit." I confessed as we sipped the drinks in the car.

"Oh?"

"I left it late to find accommodation for next semester."

"How late?"

"Technically, I don't have anywhere yet."

"There's only a few weeks left till the end of this semester, Derek. All the accommodation was allocated or taken before Easter."

"I know. There's a reason."

She looked at me pointedly.

I sighed. "I wasn't planning on staying at Queens."

Her eyes widened. "What?!" She was horrified. I took a lot of comfort in that.

"I applied to transfer to Vancouver."

"You did _what_?! Why?"

My head rested back on the car seat and I closed my eyes.

"When I came back from London, I decided I didn't want to stay in Kingston. Then when I got to thinking about it, I realised that moving away would be best in so many ways. You could come back and live with the family and you wouldn't have to see me…and I wouldn't have to see you. If I timed it right, we'd never have to see each other again."

"I never said I didn't want to see you again."

"No I know. But, I don't think you thought that through. If I stayed near by, I would be here for the future events: for you graduating, dating, falling in…finding a husband. I would be expected to watch you marry and have kids…" I didn't look at her while I spoke, but as my voice trailed away, I turned. Casey was gazing out of the window.

"What makes you think I'd get married?" She said, turning back to look at me.

"Because you're beautiful, intelligent and you'll get lots of offers. One day, you'll say yes."

Her gaze fell to the cup in her hand.

"Vancouver? Permanently? It's so far, Derek."

"And yet, not far enough."

"You want to be away from me?" She asked accusingly.

"Are you asking as my _sister_?" I shot back. She turned to the window again.

"You said 'wasn't planning on staying'. Has something changed?"

"I'm delaying it. You aren't well enough. I can't leave you while you're like this."

"Oh for godssake, Derek! I'm a big girl. An adult. I can take care of myself."

"So why don't you?" I asked simply.

The question hung in the air like a banner.

"We need to get going. Sitting here arguing is not going to get us to Kingston."  
"Fine." I said, opening my window and chucking my drink carton into the nearby trashcan. "I just wanted you to know that I still have to find somewhere else to live. But, that I _am_ looking."

"Okay." Flat, unemotional.

Casey had shut down again.

* * *

Edwin phoned me the next day to shout at me for bailing without saying goodbye. Then when he had got it off his chest, he moaned that I didn't take him with me. I guessed Fiona and Harry were making their presence felt.

Casey took being back at Queens as an opportunity to get a head start on next year by visiting each of her tutors and getting the heads up on the assignments. With her lack of social life and classes, I fully expected her to have completed the entire final year by Christmas. I was only half-joking.

We got used to being under the same roof as each other, mainly because we said so little there was never an opportunity to argue and I was too nervous to prank her. I attended my classes, sat my finals and played hockey. Casey studied. But that was just Casey.

She also ate.

I hadn't realised just how unsociable to everyone she was being until three days after we arrived back in Kingston.

It was mid-afternoon, and I had just got in from my last class of the day. I planned to revise for a paper until seven and then go grab a beer with Tom. No sooner had I dumped my bag in my room, than the doorbell rang. I glanced at Casey's room and the door was shut, so I had no idea if she was in or not. I answered the door.

"Where is she?" A red streak pushed her way into the apartment, cursing like a Gaelic whore.

"Hi Rosie! How are you?" I said to Rosie's back as she charged down the hall way to Casey's room.

"I'll be better when I find out why little Miss Perfect is avoiding me. I had to find out from Tom that she was even back in the country." She shouted over her shoulder.

"She's ignoring everyone." I shouted back, following because if Casey _was_ in her room, this was going to be good.

Rosie didn't pause at Casey's door she just turned the handle and stormed in. I couldn't see into the room, but it became obvious Casey was there by Rosie's next words.

"Holy Mary, mother of God! What the hell happened to you?"

I sprinted into the room, thinking that something had happened to Casey, but when I arrived, she was just lying on her bed reading from a text book.

"I'm fine." She insisted, looking up at me urgently and rolling her eyes. I grinned and stepped back out of the door, closing it softly behind me. Inside the volume rose again, but it was all Irish.

Maybe this was what Casey needed. A little Irish truth. I decided to go and study at the library to give them a little space. I stayed there for a couple of hours and then deciding it was safe, made my way home.

The apartment was eerily quiet again, but when I closed the front door and walked into the living room, Casey was sitting on the couch alone, the television flickering in front of her.

"Has Rosie gone?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Things back to normal with you two again? You talking to each other?"

Casey chuckled. "I think the decibel count finally reverted to something approaching normal speech again, yes."

"Good. You need her."  
"Yes. I do."

I perched on the arm of the sofa.

"How are you Casey?" I pushed softly.

"Not good."

I flopped onto the seat beside her.

"Want to talk about it?"  
"I…" and then she burst into tears.


	40. Finding Casey

I had studied depression for a while as part of one of my Psychology modules in my first year at Queens, and I thought I understood the condition. At the time, I found it hard to grasp how it must feel to get so low that you _can't _pull yourself out, no matter how much you want to.

I knew it now.

The strangest thing for me, when I watched Derek get on that bus in England was I knew that it hurt and that I was sad, but I sort of expected that it would pass. In a day or two or a couple of weeks at most, I would get to the point where I could say I was getting over him; that I could sit with my friends and look at cute guys in bars.

But it never happened. Each day was worse than the last.

I missed him. I missed him to the point of insane pain. He was the first thing that I thought of in the mornings and the last thing at night. I couldn't wash my clothes or sheets until the lingering scent of him had vanished and that happened all too quickly.

When I had left Derek in Canada, we still communicated: there were the emails and eventually the letters.

During the hiatus in our friendship, it had hurt, but all I had lost was a pipe dream.

After Valentine's Day in London, I felt like I had lost everything; all my hopes, all the possibilities. I had lost my future.

And suddenly, the pain that Isabella Swan felt at the loss of Edward Cullen was all too real for me.

I never went to see New Moon.

Willow kept me alive. She made me eat three times a day. She banged on my door in time for my classes. She checked in with me several times a day.

She never asked what happened, just waited for me to tell her.

But I never did.

For four months I let the world circle around me, and I functioned. But only just.

James came to see me often. At first he brought Lucy, but after a while developed a weird sense of it being unfair on me to push his _girlfriend_ in on our friendship when I had just lost Derek. The reality was I wasn't present enough to even care.

I sat the tests, completed the assignments, gave away my possessions, and eventually, caught the plane from the airport. James had driven me to Heathrow with Lucy and Willow in the back. I smiled weakly and nodded, but I wasn't really there and they knew it.

Willow made me promise to email her to let her know I arrived okay. James did likewise. Lucy handed me a picture frame complete with a photo of the three of them. My eyes filled with tears and as I hugged them, I wished that I had been a better friend to them at the end.

The flight was uneventful, and I behaved like an automaton. Soon, I was passing through the Arrivals hall and into the arms of my mother, my family waiting behind her. Correction: _our_ family. The family I shared with Derek.

Mom's eyes saw right through me as I had known they would. She saw that something was wrong and she called me out on it. I needed every ounce of strength in my body to not break down and confess all, because I couldn't. I was pining for her step-son, my step-brother.

I was pining for Derek.

She was kind enough to let me be and I was so grateful. Tiredness and emotion overwhelmed me and by the time I reached the restaurant the last thing I wanted to do was eat.

I hardly ate anything these days.

I knew Mom found that concerning, and she struggled not to nag me. I appreciated her effort, but I couldn't eat more. The pressure to be normal, to behave normally was wearing me down. I was constantly tired.

* * *

The trip to Kingston was arranged for the second week I was home and I was apprehensive. Although this was my first home as an adult and I owned it, it was also the place where Derek lived. _That_ fact made me nervous.

The past four months had not blunted my feelings I was sure. I was fairly certain that Derek's feelings would be a different matter. Derek didn't do commitment. His "girlfriends" were disposable. Away from me, from the reminders and without the regular communications, he would have moved on. I was convinced of that fact. The thought of him dating someone else was a dull knife in my already messed up heart. I hoped I could avoid him.

Our arrival at the apartment was on time, and Mom had casually dropped into conversation that Derek wouldn't be present, causing me to relax. Realising that he _was_ there when Mom opened the door knocked me sideways.

Standing in my own hallway, raising my eyes to look at him I got another shock. He looked withdrawn, pale. His eyes had lost their sparkle and I thought he had lost weight. He looked ill.

I wondered at the transformation.

"I forgot something." His voice after four months absence was like balm on my wounds.

I didn't listen to what he was saying, just concentrated on the sound of his voice, barely registering Mom inviting him to dinner with us that night. Before I knew what was happening, he was gone.

"Are you okay with that?" She asked when we were alone again, referring to the dinner invitation. I blinked myself back to reality.

"Yes."

Was I?

* * *

I was impressed with my apartment. The location was ideal, being close to the library and only ten minutes walk from the areas of the campus that I would need. On a nice day it would be a pleasant walk. On a bad day, there was a frequent bus. The photos I had been sent of the interior did not do the place justice. Mind you, the photos had been taken before my fantastic parents had redecorated. Mom was dismissive of my thanks, and when I protested, bizarrely told me not to ask too many questions. They had picked the colours I would have chosen myself, and the whole place looked comfortably bright and airy, and with the addition of a few items of furniture which I had set aside money for, it would be complete.

After, we had explored thoroughly, Mom suggested a little rest before Derek returned.

Dinner was torture of the kind only Derek can induce. He bullied me into eating, his dulled brown eyes lighting up with a kind of sick delight at my pain.

Or maybe that was just my interpretation of it.

I ate because even the flash of enjoyment at my expense was better than the dead eyes I had seen earlier in the apartment.

When I cleared my plate, I saw a ghost of the smirk that I knew so well.

Being around Derek was draining; more so than just the effort it took me to get through the day. I knew he would sense everything about me that wasn't normal. I had to put on even more of an act for him.

Getting back to the apartment that night, I had to go straight to bed.

In the morning, I woke to Mom sitting beside me on the bed, her face concerned as she told me about George's business partner's accident and the need for her to go home. She explained that Derek had offered to take me back home at the weekend so that I could see the tutors today as planned. I bit my lip and tried to pretend that I was okay with that, but mom was perceptive and patted my hand.

"Casey. You have to face each other sometime."

"I know."

"You still not ready to talk to me?" She asked.

I shook my head. "It's nothing mom. Nothing for you to worry about."

"Casey. It's upsetting you. How the hell could I do anything _except_ worry?"

There was silence for a while.

"Did Derek…?" Her voice trailed away, not wanting to form words.

"Derek did nothing Mom. He's a victim too."

"You think I don't know that? You're both a mess." She sighed. "Casey. Use this time well. Talk to each other."

If it was that simple, don't you think I'd would have picked up the phone?"

She stood up. "I know. I'm sorry. You're both adults after all. It's just I care about both of you. You're my children. You always will be."  
What could I say? _Thanks, Mom. Way to go making it a hundred times worse!_

* * *

After Mom left I drifted back off to sleep, surfacing later looking like I'd been dragged through a bush. I wondered if I could make it into the kitchen for a cup of tea without bumping into Derek.

No such luck. Derek was cooking. That wasn't as much of a surprise as it should have been after all he used to cook Mac and cheese when we lived at home. He didn't often cook though, because it required effort. I wondered why he was making the effort now. Then I realised he was going to bully me into eating again.

He pushed a plate and juice towards me as I sat down. He waited expectantly.

"You can't bully me, Derek." I said defiantly.

"Not trying, princess. Eat please."

There was something about the calm, concerned way he said it that made me pick up the knife and fork and start to eat.

"I'm only doing this because you'll tell Lizzie if I throw good food away." I stated after a few mouthfuls of the food which tasted really good. He smirked.

"You know me too well."

I did eat it all. But there was no way I was going to volunteer the information that I had enjoyed it. On the way to the doorway my conscience got to me.

"Thanks bro." I said flatly and went back to my room. I wondered if he noticed the appellation.

* * *

After twenty four hours, it became clear Derek was on an agenda, although I was in two minds as to whether it was to wind me up or to turn me into a two tonnes Tessie. He was always shoving food into me, and then just when I was starting to feel grateful for his presence, the little - started hogging the television.

In _my_ home.

"Tell me why I shouldn't just evict you from _my_ home." I ask. Derek smirked and I realised he had achieved the goal of trying to get me to initiate communication. The manipulative -

"I'm making chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?"

_Damn! Got me on my weak flank._

"Can't you record this, and watch it when I go to bed?" _Come on Derek, let's be adult about this._

"No."

"Der-ek!"

And there goes Casey commandment number one: _Thou shalt not let Derek goad you into splitting his name._

I swear he walked round with an irritating smirk for hours.

* * *

By the last night before we were due to return to London, we were back in the rut that was the antagonism we had always felt for each other.

Except we weren't.

He bullied me and made me furious, but there were times when I caught him looking at me when he thought I didn't notice. I saw a softening around his eyes, and it made me wonder if, as much as he ever was, he was still in some small way, mine.


	41. A Moot Point

I really don't want to dwell on the trip to London (On). Suffice is to say that Icky Vicky can blame a lot of her own behaviour on her genes. Fiona, never my favourite relative, had now slipped further down the rankings.

First it was the pointed looks when Derek and I arrived together. Then it was not so subtle enquiry as to whether I had put on weight (really! Everyone else is telling me I'm too thin!) and the mention of _that_ friend of hers again. (The one whose second marriage failed because the step-siblings got pregnant together.)

For my mother's sake, I endured it, even thought I honestly thought if I had socked her one, Mom would have been there with a damp sponge and a towel shoving me back into the ring.

The final straw, however, was the contraceptive leaflet. That was an insult to my intelligence rather than my morals. Strangely enough, I found that more offensive. If I was about to embark on a sexual relationship, I wouldn't need the prompting of my ridiculous aunt and her equally ridiculous husband to remind me to be responsible.

Besides, I was already on the Pill for my cycle.

When I found the leaflet, I sat and stared at it for several moments. How dare she? The rage built slowly as the evening progressed. I itched to retaliate, but I knew I couldn't. Derek and I had given up so much _because_ we were responsible. We had thought ahead to what our actions would do to everyone, but she was treating me as if I was no better than the school bike.

Shortly after midnight, I remembered that I had a choice these days. I was not reliant on my parents for a roof over my head. If Aunt Fiona was staying here, I would go and stay in my own apartment in Kingston. I just had to find a way to get there; the sooner the better.

I knew Derek would be awake. He is always watching something late at night when he's relegated to the couch. I was surprised and grateful at his offer of a lift. As I returned to my room to grab my stuff, a thrill of excitement passed through me. Sneaking out with Derek had a special buzz all of its own. Like something illicit, although we were both adults and free to leave whenever we liked.

As I turned to leave my room, my eye caught the leaflet again, and this time the anger formed itself into a plan. I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and started writing.

_Dear Aunt Fiona and Uncle Harry,_

_Please find enclosed the family planning leaflet you kindly left on my pillow. I appreciate the thought however, it is totally unnecessary as I am still a virgin._

_I take Femulen everyday for my horrific and prolific menstrual cycle which means without it I flood for ten days every month. Therefore, if I ever decide to alter my driven snow status, I have already got it covered._

_Might I suggest that you pass the leaflet onto Vicki? I'm sure her need is greater than mine and has been for some time._

_Unfortunately, I couldn't stay to pass the leaflet to you in person as my step-brother and I have things to do in Kingston._

_Love Casey X._

I slipped the note under their bedroom door.

I _really_ hoped that Mom would forgive me for being so rude and unladylike, and that it was Harry that read it first.

* * *

Kingston.

I suppose there were benefits to being back at college earlier than expected. It meant that I could organise my study plans for next year, and even get a head start on some of the work. College work was the one area where I could honestly say nothing had changed. I could still produce the same quality papers as always because I could lose myself for a while in other people's words. My social life was non-existent. I didn't contact anyone.

The latter proved to be a bit of a mistake, as I found out when Rosie appeared at my door – pissed as hell at me for not getting in touch to let me know that I was back.

Like my other friends and family before her, she wasn't impressed by the way I looked.

"What's going on Casey?" She said when she had calmed down enough to form a coherent sentence that wasn't in Gaelic. I held up a finger and went out of the room to check for eavesdropping ex-almost-boyfriends.

"It's complicated."  
"Derek?"

I nodded.

"Did you two finally get your act together?"

I shook my head and when her eyebrows pulled together in a frown, I told her the whole story.

Afterwards, she was silent.

"Say something." I urged.

"Casey. I understand the need for you to protect your family, but tell me, is killing yourself in the process really going to spare them heartache?" She touched my hair with her fingers. "You're in a right old state and I'll bet your mother is worried sick. Tell me, which would she rather? A depressed daughter who is gradually starving herself or a happy daughter with a man who loves her – even if he is her step-brother?"

"Moot point."  
"The hell it is."

We grinned at each other. Rosie glanced at her watch.

"I gotta go. Got a hot date with a hockey player."

"Oh?"

"Although the term 'player' is a little too appropriate for this specimen. And you'd agree."

"I know him?"

"Tom." She confessed.

"No way!"

"Yeah. Seems like the Dasey situation is enough to work miracles. We've been meeting to swap notes and it's progressing to something more. Although I'm still pissed that he only just told me you were home."

"Dasey?"

"Derek+Casey. You know, like Brangelina."

I pulled a face. "Not complaining about being compared to her bod, but if Derek ever grows a beard like Mr Pitt, I'll shear him like a sheep…"

We giggled and I felt a hundred times better for a few moments.

"Talk to him, Casey. You are adults. You get to make choices now."

"I know. I just think maybe I've really screwed up this time. I was so worried about losing the family, I think I lost myself."

"Derek's a good guy, Casey." She was thoughtful. "And one hell of a decorator. He's worth pursuing even if it is just for his glossing skills." She said nodding towards the bedroom walls.

"His what?"

She looked confused. "You mean they didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"  
"It was Derek who decorated your apartment."

* * *

After Rosie had gone, I moved into the living room and tried to watch television, largely unsuccessfully. Her revelation had been nothing short of astounding.

Derek had decorated my apartment?

A small part of me had a little chuckle that if journalism didn't work out for him he would make a fortune in home improvements. I wondered if Mom would consider taking him on.

In time, the front door clicked open and he was home, and my nerves got the better of me.

"Has Rosie gone?" He asked when he reached where I was sitting.

"Yes." I said quietly.

"Things back to normal with you two again? You talking to each other?"

"I think the decibel count finally reverted to something approaching normal speech again, yes."

"Good. You need her."

"Yes. I do."

He perched on the arm of the sofa.

"How are you Casey?" He nagged.

"Not good." My chest suddenly felt tight.

Derek flopped onto the seat beside me and a wave of emotion swept over me.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I…" and then I burst into tears.

I wasn't sure what I expected him to say or do, but I knew it wasn't what actually happened.

"…only you. No matter what crap his alter ego pulls, who he marries, what he says…" He quoted his eyes looking anywhere but me.

Through my tears, I smiled weakly.

"…Only you…" I confirmed.

Both of us had avoided the three important words. We exchanged a momentary glance and then he sighed.

"Can your brother give his sister a hug?"  
"Sure."

"Cool. I'll give Nora a call and ask her to bring Robbie over." He answered and I laughed.

Derek turned to me smirking and threw the promised arm around me.

* * *

"Did Rosie give you grief?" He asked as I curled into his side.

"Yes. And a speech." His fingers brushed my shoulder and his spare hand took hold of mine.

"About what?"

"About how Mom would prefer you and I dating to me dying of a broken heart."

He pressed a kiss into my hair. "Interesting concept. What did you say?"

"That it was a moot point."

He chuckled and his breath warmed my skin.

"She said we shouldn't forget that we are adults and can choose how to live our lives."

"Easier said than done."

"Yes. I know." I was quiet for a moment. "This is nice. I like this. This I definitely don't want to lose." I was referring to our current situation, tucked up together on the couch.  
"Me either."

"I'm not going to throw you out, you know." I said softly.

We looked at each other then, really looked at each other.

"I know we can't…be anything, but I don't want you out of my life, Derek. Vancouver is a bad idea."

"Self-preservation."

"I need a roommate and you need somewhere to live." I took a deep breath. "And we both need a way to deal with the…attraction."

"De-sensitising?" He laughed.

"Don't laugh."

"If you're offering me the ability to live in this apartment for reduced rent and no hassle…sorry a little hassle from the landlord, the answer is 'yes'."

"Good. Derek?"  
"Hmm."

"Why did you decorate my apartment?"

He froze.

"The truth or the lies?"

"The truth, jackass."

His fingers were massaging my spine now.

"I spilled something on the wallpaper."

"Der-ek!" I cried smacking him on the arm but despite the bruise he would undoubtedly have in the morning, we both laughed.

A little while later, we had both become absorbed in the drama that was unfolding on the TV screen rather than our own lives. I was still in Derek's arms, although he was sprawled on the couch and I was largely lying on top of him. I could hear his heartbeat because my ear was pressed to his chest, so I heard when its rhythm picked up.

"I stripped the wallpaper before I came to see you in London, and yes, I did it because I spilled something. When I got back in Canada after…Valentine's Day, I wanted to leave you with something. Something that meant something to you but that you wouldn't need to know had come from me. Nora found out and helped me."

"Thank you."  
"Do you like it? It was done with love."  
"How could I not, D?"

The look we exchanged then told me something important. Whilst I know we would probably fight it all the way, the only people we would ever love would be each other. Derek wouldn't need to worry about me walking down the aisle with someone else because it was never going to happen. And I was fairly sure the converse was also true.


	42. The UnBoyfriend

**AN: 41 chapters and one kiss…but in my defence I did categorise this as Angst.**

**Chapter 42 is different. Enjoy. **

* * *

"The coast is clear. You can come home." Mom said a week later during our weekly phonecall.

"Oh?" I said, hooking my legs up onto the sofa and making myself comfortable.

"Yeah. Dastardly and Muttley have left. Apparently, the insurance company have coughed up for a hotel that Fiona approves of."

"Mother!" I said in mock horror. "She's your sister. You can't call her 'Dastardly'".

"Actually Dastardly was Harry, Muttley's your aunt."

"I'm shocked."

"Casey. I'm going to moderate my language because there are children in the room but isn't the phrase 'Pot' and 'black' rather appropriate, in view of _the letter_?"

"You know about the letter?"

"Oh Yeah. She made a point of showing it to me. I'm holding _the letter_."

"Sorry."

"For what? You stuck up for yourself, which is what I should have done. I'm fed up with her sanctimonious twoddle about how great Vic_toria_ is. She hasn't a clue about her daughter." I could tell Mom was holding something back.  
"Mom…what did you do?"  
"I showed her the outtakes from her wedding video."

"Outtakes? What outtakes?" Oh. The ones of Derek and Vicki. I tried hard to forget about those. It was a long time ago. When he was a different person. "…_Mom!_"

"Then I told her about the Truman fiasco."

"Mother!"  
"Casey. She needed to hear it. I should have said it a long time ago."

And mom was right, as usual.

"Anyway, you and Derek can come home whenever you like."  
"Thanks. I'll tell him."  
"You're talking then? Does that mean everything is okay?"

I sighed. No. Everything was _far_ from okay. We had agreed to live together so that we could work out a way to get over each other.

For once even I could see how ridiculous that was.

"I'm eating and we're both still alive. I think that's the best you can say about it at the moment." I paused. "Why didn't you tell me he decorated the apartment?"

"Because he asked me not to. Stupid boy. He finally does something openly affectionate with no hidden agenda, and then swears the only witness to secrecy."

"Not the only witness. Rosie told me."

Mom laughed. "Poor Derek."

I heard his key in the front door. "Speak of the devil." I said alerting Mom to the fact our conversation was now being overheard. The front door slammed and Derek came into the room.

He flashed me a grin that made my heart race, blew me a kiss and then disappeared into his room. There was no trace of the verbal battle we had had that morning before he left for one of his few remaining hockey practices.

We were supposed to be trying to get over each other. Apparently, in Derek and Casey speak that involved equal amounts of fighting and flirting.

* * *

Mom and I talked on for a while and when we finally hung up, I went into the kitchen to make my dinner.

"Where's mine?" Derek asked coming in a few minutes later, freshly showered and smelling of the uniquely Derek scent that made me weak at the knees. He swung himself up onto the kitchen work surface, his legs dangling near me.

"Don't make me answer that Venturi." I threatened.

Derek grinned and jabbed at my side with a clothed foot. "Aw! Come on. Be nice. I'm a growing boy."

"You're old enough to cook for yourself and to know better." I said referring to the morning's run-in which had been over the state he had left the bathroom in. "Did you pick up after yourself this time?"

"Of course. Jeez Case. It was just a pair of boxers that dropped from the pile of dirty clothes. I didn't see them fall. I told you."

I blushed. "I don't need to see your boxers first thing in the morning, Derek." They had still been warm when I picked them up. How's a celibate girl supposed to cope with that?

"You think I should start sleeping naked?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer." _Please Derek. I'm trying here._

"You don't know what you're missing." He sing-songed, stealing cheese from the pile I was grating and I smacked at his hand. Derek smirked. "What are you cooking anyway?"

"Enchiladas." I said smugly, anticipating his reaction.

"Casey…that's one of my favourites…don't be cruel."

As if I didn't know that.

As if I hadn't bought enough of the ingredients to cook for two.

As if this wasn't another game of ours.

Derek jumped down off the work surface and sidled up to me.

"Come on…share. I'll make it worth your while." He said, in a voice that suddenly oozed honey and seduction.

"You think I'd pay for sexual favours with TexMex?" I laughed.

"Baby. You don't need to pay for anything." In a Barry White voice.

At the same time, his arm caught me around my waist and then he deftly removed the cheese grater and cheese from my hands returning them to the side, and backed me into a corner. My heart started to pound.

Suddenly this didn't seem a game anymore.

"You blush ridiculously easy, princess. Why are you embarrassed? It's just you and me. Remember me? Your un-boyfriend."

"Unfair, Derek." I protested, but a traitorous grin tugged at my lips. He started to nuzzle my neck.

"Tell you what. Let's skip the Mexican. I've found something else I'd rather consume. Let's just ditch the "un"."

I was finding it hard to catch my breath. My hands were resting on his chest and I looked up at him. Time for sneaky tactics.

"The enchilada's are half-done. You really want to spoil the food?" I said archly.

He backed off. "Good point. I'll leave you alone – at least until after dinner."

Despite the fact I could breathe again with the increased distance, I missed his embrace.

"Grate the cheese?" I asked, not wanting him to abandon the kitchen.

Derek smiled a genuine smile and reached for the grater pressing a kiss on my cheek in passing.

* * *

Later, fed and back on the couch there was a distance between us that was more than physical. I didn't like it. He was sitting beside me, but I felt as though we were two people standing either side of a very large wall. Some times the wall seemed larger than others and right now was one of those times.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked tentatively, turning my head from the television screen to see his face in the shadows. Derek sighed.

"Never you, Casey. Always the circumstances." His voice was serious for once. He wasn't looking at me, but his hand found mine in the half dark. I squeezed it and suddenly found myself wrapped in his arm again.

"You have no idea how much I want to tell the world to fuck off right now." he stated.

I snuggled closer until it was only the thin layers of clothes which kept my skin from really touching him. It wasn't close enough.

After a few moments, Derek shifted into his favourite pose: prostrate on the couch, legs up. Then he pulled me into my "normal" pose sprawled on top of him, legs intertwined and head tucked into the nook between his head and his neck.

"Normal" for us this past week.

Was this normal for a brother and sister? Hell no!

Was I about to object?

What do you think?

I was comfortable lying there, snuggled up to my un-boyfriend. The man I lived with. The man I loved. The man who, in six years I had shared just one kiss with.

"You realise how tonight's going to end, don't you?" He said quietly. "The same way every night this week has. With a crick in your neck, crumpled clothes, and both of us being late because our alarm clocks are in our bedrooms and we spent the night on the couch.

"Yeah. You're right." I said, starting to get up. "Bedtime."

His arms tightened. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Bed. Derek. I'd like a decent night's sleep for once."

Derek looked offended.

"What was wrong with last night?"

"You just said. A crick in the neck, crumpled clothes and missing our alarm calls."

"I was just managing your expectations. All good customer service." Derek muttered.

"Customer service?" I chuckled. "Come on, un-boyfriend. If you're a good boy, I'll let you choose which side." I waited for him to catch on.

"When you say 'bedtime'…?"  
"I mean you can sleep in my room." I said softly. "But I warn you, any funny business and I'll be forced to take action."

Derek smirked.

"Not that sort of action, moron."

* * *

It was a good night's sleep. I woke happier than I had in a long time. And in a predictable fashion, I woke totally entangled in Derek again. And slightly before my alarm.

"Case?" Derek said quietly, his breath brushing against my ear. "If I behave, can I stay here again some time?"

I was thoughtful for a while.

"If you behave, you can stay here every night." I said eventually, closing my eyes against the step I had just taken.

His arms tightened around me briefly.

"I love you." He murmured.

"I love you too."

We moved Derek's things into my room, or at least the things he actually used. It would only be a semi-permanent arrangement anyway, because if our family ever paid us a visit he would have to move back temporarily. But it was what we needed. Derek took me out to dinner that night to "celebrate" his escalated un-boyfriend status. To anyone watching it would have looked like a date.

Probably because it was.

Not that either of us would ever admit it. We held hands. We went home and to bed like normal couples, but nothing happened. I didn't even kiss him.

Not that night.

The end of the semester was a different matter, however.

* * *

I both love and hate laundry. I hate that you have to pick up the dirty clothes to put them in the machine. I love that with soap the washer does the rest. I hate the wet clothes feeling when you pull the clothes out to put them in the dryer, but I love that you can use those scented sheet things to make them smell nice. I love folding the clothes neatly, and smoothing out the wrinkles.

So Derek and I have a pact. He puts the washing on, and I handle the dryer.

It was the last Saturday before the end of the semester. We were still sailing our own half-relationship course; a course full of longing looks, and chaste embraces, with no kisses and definitely no sex.

I was smoothing the laundry when Derek emerged from our bedroom and it took a while for me to register him standing in the doorway. When I did spot him I was sure he had been there for some time.

"I love a domesticated woman." He said, cheekily.

"Where?" I said looking around frantically as if trying to spot the illusive female." I pulled a face at him and shoved a pile of unironed clothes at him.

"Your turn."

"Aw. I hate ironing." He protested.

"Tough. I love a domesticated man. Although granted it's a rare species."

He placed the ironing on the side.

"I'll do it tomorrow, when the hockey's on and you're at your dance thingy."

Yes. Derek does the ironing in front of the hockey. (Please refrain from laughing _too_ loudly. I do have neighbours.)

"Your choice but I need some of that stuff for Monday morning, so don't forget. I need clothes Derek."

He looked blankly at me. "Really? What for?"

"Protecting my modesty from the threat of un-chivalrous men." I looked pointedly at him.

"Hey I'm chivalrous. I open doors and jar lids."

"Hmm…doors, jar lids, zippers."

Derek smirked.

"At least you know these days it's only _your_ clothes I'm interested in removing."

I rolled my eyes at him but let him take hold of my waist.

"Do you think maybe that's it?" I asked, seriously.

"What's it?"

"Do you think maybe it's completely sexual attraction and that if we just had sex we'd be over each other in an instant?"

"Nope. But if you want to test the theory, I'm game."

"Der-ek!"

I was pressed back against the stationary washer, Derek's body holding me in place. One of his hands still held my waist and the other one lifted to my hair and eased the strands away from my eyes.

"Casey. We need to talk." He started.

And stopped.

Then before I could take a preparatory breath, his lips were pressed against mine. It wasn't rough or aggressive, just gentle kissing, but I had had no warning. Derek broke off for a second and I gasped a breath before he moved back and started kissing me again. This time, our lips moved together and my hands reached up to his hair.

The last time we had kissed had been rather saline in nature. This time I could taste him.

The kissing went on for a while. Warm soft lips and gentle roving hands. I started to run out of breath again. Fortunately, so did Derek.

"That was talking?" I panted when he released me.

"Yup." He sounded cautious.

I tilted my head to one side. "You wanna talk some more?" I suggested.

Derek laughed loudly and grabbed hold of my hand, dragging me into the living room and over to the couch. He sat down and pulled me with him.

"Honey. The only thing I have planning for today other than eating and bathroom breaks is talking with my girlfriend. If that's okay with her?"

There had been too many words already, so I voted with my lips.


	43. A Roast

Tom was waiting for me outside the locker room after the final practice. I guessed I should be grateful he didn't corner me while we were changing.

"You going home for the summer?" He asked. It was a pointed question. If I was, then I was evidently **over** Casey. If I wasn't, then Casey and I were still carrying on with this "living together" thing.

"I'm going home." I said, enjoying the look of surprise on his face.

"Oh!"

I grinned broadly. "…with Casey for two weeks."

Tom aimed a punch at my arm. "Don't do that to me, I thought I was going to have to take you somewhere and get you insanely drunk."

I shook my head. "Nope. One of my school friends is getting married in London and we've both been invited, so we're off home."

"How are things with you two anyway?"

"You have an unhealthy interest in my love life, Tom. What's wrong? Rosie still holding out on you?"

He grinned. "No. That's a done deal. But this will shock you. I'm meeting her parents."

"You're _what?_" I was astounded.

"They've invited me to Ireland. I've said yes."

I couldn't hide my surprise. Tom _never_ met the parents, no matter what the incentive.

"Wow!"

"Yeah. I know. I guess being around you two rabbits rubs off after a while."

"Rabbits?! It's not like that Tom and you know it." And that was the truth.  
He laughed. "Yeah. Why is that?"

I ignored him. He knew. Because acting on our feelings was still very new and Casey had limits as to how far she wanted to go so soon and I wasn't going to push it. I was just grateful that she had given in to _us_. If it took her years to want _that_, I would wait. I had gone too long without her to be without her again.

"So you two are going home." He continued. "Gonna tell the folks?"

I shook my head. "No. We've decided to keep our life in Kingston separate from our life in London."

"Isn't that over complicating things?"  
"Probably. But it keeps Casey happy."

Tom smiled. "They know anyway, Derek. Come on. Admit it."  
I sighed. "They have suspicions. I'm not disrespecting them by confirming them."

* * *

The night before we left for London, Casey was quieter than normal. She lay beside me in our bed for once not touching me.

"Do you think it will be obvious?" She asked in a small voice.

I sighed regretfully.

"Who knows? Case. They'll work it out one day, you know that because we'll always be together. I won't ever move out and when you do, I'll go with you."

"If it lasts long enough." She whispered.

I grabbed her then, forcing her to weave her body into my grip the way we normally did. Casey raised her face to look at me.

"Do you think this is a short term deal?" I made myself ask.

"What about when you meet your perfect blonde? Or the supermodel? Or the Air hostess?" She recited the list that I had no idea she knew about. "As far as I recall there was no step-sister on your list."

"I was fifteen when I made that list Casey. And you aren't my step-sister. You're my girlfriend."

"The future scares me, Derek."

"The past scares me. All the mistakes and misjudgements I made. All the times I came close to not doing something important. The future I can't regret, because I don't know it to lose it. The past is stuffed full of regret and bad decisions – and times where the choices I made to get to this point in time were so nearly different."

"I don't want to be made to choose."  
"We've already chosen, princess. It's _our_ decision. We each made it separately, but the fact that it resulted in us means it's a joint decision; the first of many." I brushed her hair, smoothing it away from where it tickled my skin. "I've always trusted my Dad and Nora. I don't think I want to stop that now."

"I know. I trust them too. I just keep thinking about that phone call."

"We weren't there. We don't know all the facts." I paused. "Look. We won't tell them unless they ask. But if they ask we'll be honest okay. We're adults. We live together. We love each other. This isn't an abusive relationship. It's not a controlling relationship. It's just you and me and love. Can they have a problem with that?"

* * *

It was all so easy.

We went home and everyone behaved as though nothing had changed. Nora and Dad greeted us with the same old level of enthusiasm. Dad back-patted and Nora gave exuberant, overwhelming hugs.

It really wasn't until Nora followed me into the kitchen while Robbie was distracting the rest of the family in the living room that I realised it was all a cover.

She hugged me. It was a similar hug to the one in front of the rest of the family, but when she pulled away, my shoulder was wet and her eyes were red.

"Nora? Are you okay?" I asked with concern. This woman in front of me held a similar sized place in my heart to my own mother. She had been there for me when even my own mother hadn't. Without question I loved her. She smiled weakly and fresh tears escaped.

"I just wanted to say thank you for bringing Casey back."

I shrugged. "I had to drive back anyway. No biggy."

"I didn't mean the drive Derek."

Then I understood.

"Oh."

"She looks good…happy." Nora admitted. "Thank god! Thank you."

"She's getting to do all her assignments three months early and lives next door to a massive library. For a keener, that's ambrosia, I'd say she was on cloud nine." I quipped.

My step-mother laughed.

"And her step-brother has nothing to do with it?"

"Hey. Please tell me Ed isn't trying to take the credit for this?"

"Not Edwin. You."

Our eyes met.

"I'm not her step-brother, Nora." I stated.

"No. I know."

It was a tumbleweed moment.

Nora walked to the fridge and removed a bottle of sparkling wine that had been chilling to celebrate the return of the two prodigals. She popped the cork and decanted it into the tall champagne flutes which had been my wedding present to her and my father.

Then she said it.

"I think your father would like to talk to you later."

* * *

Lizzie had dragged Casey upstairs for a girly chat, so I had no chance to discuss her mother's ominous words with her. When they emerged for dinner, there was obviously something off about my expression, because Casey frowned and looked questioningly at me. I mouthed "tell you later" and took my place opposite her.

Nora had out-done herself with a massive roast dinner. It appeared that Casey had been involved in the planning because Nora informed us that it was a traditional English roast beef dinner, complete with Yorkshire puddings. Apparently, I had missed the point where Casey had disappeared into the kitchen to make the latter.

I had had roast beef and Yorkshire puddings in England but, my family were new to it, and by the end of the meal Edwin announced he was emigrating.

Dad said he'd join him.

"When did you learn to make the puddings?" I asked my girlfriend.

"Willow taught me. They are ridiculously easy to do. It's just pancake batter and muffin trays. The secret is very hot fat."

"Well I'm stuffed." Lizzie announced and Marti agreed, pushing her plate away. Robbie however, pouted. "More Yorkshires." He demanded.

Casey laughed. "You'll look like a pudding if you eat anymore."

"More puds." He insisted. So Nora gave him the last remaining pudding.

"Maybe you were a Brit in a previous life." Nora said chuckling. "If I'd known what it took to get you to eat was British food, I would have bought a British cook book."

"Honestly, Robbie. And you call yourself a Venturi." Edwin admonished.

"I'm right with you on the roast beef and Yorkshires though, buddy." I agreed. My gaze fell on Casey and she smiled.

This was good. It felt like home.

I tried not to think about the "conversation" my Dad wanted to have with me.

* * *

Obviously, we weren't sleeping together. Casey had her room and I had mine. I think she expected me to come and talk to her later on that night when the girls had gone to bed. So she was a little surprised to see me switching my light off and heading back downstairs.

"Where are you going?" She asked, curious.

"Apparently, Dad wants to talk to me."

Her eyes widened and I saw panic creeping in. I backed her into her room and shut the door.

"Don't jump to conclusions, sweetheart."

"But…"

"But nothing. He probably just wants to talk about my post-college plans."

Yeah, right.

Funny how Nora had mentioned Dad's need to talk to me right after the "she's not my step-sister" conversation.

Casey bit her lip. "You think?"

I kissed her: chastely, but on the lips. My body woke up at her touch and I went back for a less innocent kiss.

"I love you." I said. "That is not going to change."

Insecurity bit again. "Life would be easier with someone else." Casey murmured against my lips.

"Not going to happen. Easy is not something I want anymore. I like a challenge…" I kissed her deeply. "…and I _love_ you."

"I love you too."

"Good!" I announced, straightening. "When I've finished the "chat" I'll come see you."

And with that I left her before she could panic anymore.

I hoped I could believe my own hype.

* * *

**AN: Apologies for the lack of updates this week. After a bad two months, this week being school holidays, me and the family finally got to spend some quality time together. I hope you understand. X**


	44. Clarity

The hockey was on when I got downstairs. It was hardly surprising because the female members of the clan had all disappeared for the night, leaving the Venturi males with free reign. Consequently, Edwin was sprawled on the couch and Dad was propped up in the recliner. Unless I flexed some muscle, there was no where for me.

Not an option. I glanced at the two of them and I knew which one I would be successful in moving.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I walked over to the couch and kicked Ed.

"Shift." It had been years since I had really picked on Ed, so he knew it was mainly out of nostalgia. He rolled his eyes at me but moved and I sat down, making out that I too was watching the TV screen.

That there was going to be a heavy discussion tonight was obvious. The air was thick with tension. That it was going to be a discussion about my relationship with Casey was also obvious. I wondered how Dad was going to start. Would he lead up to it gently?

_So…Derek. How's life in Kingston? Found somewhere new to live? I'm sure Casey must be getting sick of you being under her roof by now._

_Actually, Dad, we share a bed these days. Haven't done the deed yet, but I'm hopeful._

Yeah…right.

Or maybe, he would be forthright.

_So…Derek. Are you banging your step-sister?_

I coughed aloud at that thought. In a rather sick way, it was amusing.

The reality was he said nothing.

The three of us sat there for half an hour watching a game replay as if it was live action. I cottoned on to that straight away. Since the other two occupants of the room were less hockey-fixated I doubt they had a clue. Eventually, the inaction and silence of my two companions got to me but still, Dad said nothing.

It was me that spoke. "What's all this I hear about you and Lassiter, Ed?" I asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence and trying to deflect the attention from me.

Of course, it didn't because I picked a subject that would always wrap around to me.

"You heard about that, huh?" He grinned as he sipped his soda.  
I scoffed. "Edwin. You seriously think I don't get to hear about it when my half-pint bro beats the crap out of a quarter back?" It was fact that not only did I receive Lizzie's call that day in London but for the next week I received text messages, emails and phone calls from those of my former school friends who had younger siblings still at the school. First they rang to talk about Edwin. Then, without, exception they found some way to turn the subject matter to Casey – and those rumours.

It had hurt, because I had been forced to leave her, and every communication for my former friends was another nail in the coffin of despair.

But things had changed, Casey was no longer in London, she was upstairs waiting for me, her boyfriend, to tell her what exactly the family thought of our relationship.

Ed grinned. "Impressive eh?" He asked returning my attention to our discussion of his football antics.

"That wasn't the word I was thinking of. 'Foolhardy' was more appropriate." Edwin had grown over the years. He was still a weedy ass.

He looked taken aback. "I followed the Derek Venturi method."

My turn to be taken aback. The only time I had "fought" with the bigger members of the football team I had turned chicken and it was Casey who had backed the guy into the lockers.

"Oh?" I managed trying to ignore the conflicted emotions that particular memory evoked. My girlfriend had saved me from a beating. Although then she had been nothing more than a filial inconvenience. That she saved me was not good but she had looked fucking hot while she did it…

Say no more.

"Yeah." Edwin explained. "I distracted him and ran away. He tripped and fell down the stairs."

I stared at Edwin in admiration. He was more of a Venturi than I had given him credit for. Sometimes brain beats brawn.

"So how come you got in trouble with Lassiter?" Much as I hated to deflate the ego, it was necessary.  
Edwin shrugged. "That was because it turns out the douchebag concerned filed a complaint with Lassiter…his uncle."

Dad finally intervened at this point. "That man has no balls."

I almost choked on my beer. He looked around and grinned. "Are you disputing the fact?"

I coughed. "No. But, is it really appropriate that you say that?"

Dad shrugged. "Hell! We're all men here."

Ed and I exchanged a glance. Dad had turned into a pod-person.

"And this was all over rumours?" I said, turning back to my brother…prompting. Edwin looked uneasy.

"Erm…yeah."

"About me and Casey?" I asked then sipped my beer.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry Ed." I genuinely was. My brother should not have to deal with the fall-out of my relationship. Of course when this had all taken place the rumours had no substance. There had been no relationship.

Internally, I corrected myself. Even if the rumours had surfaced when we were fifteen there would have been substance. The reason they hadn't was that the morons concerned were too scared to risk pissing me off by circulating them while I was still at school. I might have backed down from a fight with a man-fridge, but I wasn't above dishing it out to smaller specimens.

"Does Casey know about the rumours?" Edwin asked.

I nodded.

"How did…Do they bother her?" It was my brother who asked, but my father turned for the answer.

"They bother both of us, Ed. The pregnancy one especially." That one had hurt.

Edwin sighed. "You know what high school is like. A girl leaves the country for a while and tongues start wagging."  
"Ya know, I could cope with the crap from high school but Fiona was the frosting on the cake."

"Fiona?"  
"Jeez Ed. Where have you been?" If he was anything like me at his age, in his room listening to music and pretending that family tension was someone else's business.  
Edwin looked at Dad. "Seriously? Fiona's been making trouble?"

"Yeah." Dad confirmed. "Harry and I had words over that."

That was news. In some small way it gave me hope.

Hell! The fact that I was still breathing in the face of my father gave me hope.

Edwin fidgeted.

"How is it…living with Casey?" He asked eventually.

I was thoughtful, tipping my beer for another glug.

"You know Casey." I said enigmatically.

"Not as well as you do." I couldn't argue with that. I grinned.

"Apparently, I'm a moronic slob, who deliberately misses the toilet pan and leaves dirty underwear out for her to trip over. And she's a keener with definite OCD tendencies who cries ridiculously easily."  
"True love then?" Ed snickered.

I shot a look at my brother and his oh-so-aware eyes. Then I turned and looked at my dad who had muted the TV and was watching both of us.

So now we were going to cut to the chase. I scratched my nose contemplating them both. "Best buds? Good cop, bad cop? Or just a tag team worthy of WWF?" I asked referring to the way I had walked into this with my eyes open. Dad shrugged.

I blew out a long breath, remembering that Edwin's question had actually been more of a statement. _True love, then. _"I'm not answering that."

Dad ran his fingers through his hair the way he did when he was nervous.

The way _I did_ when I was nervous I realised, as I brought my own hands down from my head.

"Why not?" He asked finally.

"Dad. Let's not go there, okay? If I don't say, you don't have to pretend. Edwin can still hold his head up at school and you don't get called into Lassiter's office for the Texas showdown. The family doesn't need to know about Kingston." I said. simply. Neither confirmation or denial. No other explanation.

"What sort of love is it, son?" He asked quietly. "Protective? Companionable? Sexual?"

What could I answer but the truth?

"All of those." I said firmly.

Dad exhaled. I saw a weight come off his shoulders. Seriously? What did he expect me to say? _I'm just in it to get in her pants?_

I continued. "But mostly the 'forever' kind." I was admitting it to myself as much as anything.

"Forever's a long time." Dad said softly.

I sat forward. "I know. But, look at it this way, Dad. I've fought long and hard for this. The attraction has been there for six years. I've been actively pursuing her for almost three. I've had numerous offers since then from women, some of whom were the stuff that wet dreams are made of. I've acted on none of them."

"Because of Casey?"

"Yes."

Dad spoke quietly, but matter-of-factly. "I was shocked when I heard the rumours. I didn't act with maturity. But most of that was compounded by the way the supposed man of responsibility – the Principal – acted. He allowed rumours to circulate that he should have dismissed. True or not, either then or now, he acted unprofessionally. That was where the anger came from. Not the belief that the rumours were true."

"What do I do Dad?" I scratched my head. "This is weird."

"Weird in what way?"

"I'm trying to be two different people. On the one hand Derek Venturi, member of this _wonderful, blended _family. On the other hand, a blackguard with dishonourable intentions." Jeez, Casey and her English expressions were wearing off on me. The only time I had ever heard the expression "blackguard" was in that lame musical with the chick from "Breakfast at Tiffany's". I frowned. "My Fair lady", that was it.

"Dishonourable intentions?" Dad raised his eyebrows.

"It's not exactly honourable or normal to want to be with your step-sister."

"Derek for something to be "normal" it just has to be true in most cases. That means more than 50 percent of the time. 51 per cent could be "normal" but that would still mean 49 per cent of people didn't do it.

Look at all the times where normal is bad. Ethnic cleansing where someone wants everyone to look the same, and think the same. Or in genetics in the "cut off during the war" syndrome where the gene pool becomes limited."

I frowned at him because it was an incredibly bizarre explanation, but I sort of got his point. In society and genetics, new ideas and new blood were good – even if it wasn't obvious at the start. Did that really apply to falling in love with your step-sister though?

"Derek. I could tell you not to do it; to go to Vancouver and leave Casey to stay in Kingston. I could cite the family. I could tell you that you are too young, and it will all end in tears. But you aren't a hormonal teenager. You are in your twenties – your third decade. You haven't been a recluse. You've dated other girls."

Edwin snorted. "Don't we know it!"

Dad threw him an amused look. "This isn't first time love and you've known Casey for six years. If it's lasted this long it won't just go away however much you try. Will it work? You need to find out for yourself. You both do. If it ends, as it may well do, then the family will just have to cope with it. Just like we would cope with the fall out of any other decision of yours" He paused. "Just promise me you'll be responsible; that it will only be you two involved in the split and not my grandchild."

I nodded.

Dad stood up.

"You don't need my permission to date a consenting adult Derek. But you have it…and Nora's. We've talked about it and I know how she feels. Just promise me, even if you fall out of love, you'll respect Casey."

"I don't know how to behave any other way, Dad."

"Good. Oh and Derek…go easy on the PDA in front of the kids."

I rolled my eyes and he smirked.

"Ed." Dad said as he turned to leave. "Anything you want to tell me about Lizzie?"

Edwin snorted coca-cola across the couch and I chuckled, throwing myself into the recliner.

Dad waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Night!" He called over his shoulder as he walked away.

My brother recovered sooner than I did. "Seriously? That's all he's going to say?"

I threw a cushion at him as I got comfortable. "I think he's embarrassed."

"He's not the only one."

"Sorry Edwin."

It wasn't me that spoke. Casey was coming down the stairs. I glanced up at her.

She had on these cute little blue pyjamas that I had bought for her a couple of weeks ago.

"How much did you hear?" I asked.

She threw me a "give me a break" look.

"All of it. You think I was just going to sit in my room and wait for you to come back up?" Nope. Because I wouldn't have done either.

I shrugged. She reached the bottom step and then moved to the couch to sit next to Edwin.

"I'm sorry, Ed." She said quietly. "We've made things awkward for you and Liz at school. It was unintentional."  
My brother looked up at _his_ step-sister. "Casey. I love you to pieces, but the only person who made this awkward for me, _was _me. I was the one who let it get out of hand. I should have dealt with it sooner. And Liz? She understands. She always has. I think she knew before you did. Just promise me something…?"  
Casey smiled sweetly at him. "Anything."

"No making out in front of me…especially when I've just eaten."

She looked stunned.

I however, sat up in the recliner and held a hand out to my girlfriend who stood up.

"In that case, Ed. Clear off, before you see something that might disagree with you."

"Ew!" He pulled a panicked face as he stood up. "Give me a head start."

I smirked and yanked Casey onto my lap. My eyes didn't leave hers as I started counting. "Five…four…"

"Jesus Derek!" Edwin said as he ran for the stairs.

Casey collapsed into my arms, giggling. I pressed a kiss to her temple and let my fingers comb her long hair.

"Well that went better than I thought." I admitted.

"Hmmm." She sighed against my neck. "It did, didn't it?" Her lips brushed my skin and I shifted so that I could see her face. She was smiling and I felt a hand slide around my waist as our lips met in a deep kiss. It grew and a pounding began to grow in my chest as the lack of air started to take effect.

"Derek?" Casey said, allowing me to breathe for a second.

"Hmm?" I was waiting for my heart rhythm to settle.

"Are we seriously going to make out in our parents living room?"

"You have a better idea?"

"Let's take this upstairs."

I jerked my head back suddenly to look at her.

"Oh for heavens sakes! Like I would suggest doing _that_ here!" She protested.

I grinned.

Once Casey…always Casey.

* * *

**AN: One more chapter and the epilogue.**


	45. A Wedding

The bride, pausing at the back of the church, could hardly be described as blushing. She had chosen a fairly traditional, ivory-white dress which was obviously one she had been dreaming of since her grandmother bought her a DVD of Disney's Cinderella for her seventh birthday. The dress looked good, but to those in the know, there was just a little shadow of post-baby bump beneath the bust.

The fact was the whole church was in the know because there were four bridesmaids, and the smallest, dressed in pink taffeta was being carried by one of the two adult bridesmaids; a tiny babe-in-arms who wore the blush that her mother – the bride – couldn't. At the front of the church, stood a tall man in a white morning suit and he had the widest smile for "his girls" as he spotted his wife-to-be and their child.

The entrance hymn started to play and the fourth bridesmaid, in reality a small flower girl, stepped forward scattering pink petals onto the aisle carpet. The congregation stood and all of the women collectively sighed.

Including the beautiful one standing beside me dressed in a stunning pale pink shift dress.

"Just promise me something, Casey." I whispered raising my hands which held the camera slightly. She lifted an expectant eyebrow as I focussed the lens on her face.

"Just promise me, no effing petals at _our_ wedding."

_Click!_

I checked the display to see the shot I had just taken. Yup! Her face was a fucking picture!

"What?!" She high-pitch squeaked. A large lady in an ill-advised red and green print dress turned round with a glare. Casey mouthed "sorry!" at her, colouring immediately.

The tinny organ butchered the traditional wedding music and Casey, embarrassment slowly dissolving, turned back to watch Amanda's progress down the aisle towards Ralph. Even over the music, I could hear her softly taking breaths as she tried to regain her calm again. She glanced at me, nervously. I smirked but said nothing as I fiddled with the camera. She was going to spend the rest of the day wondering if I had meant that comment.

It was evident to most people that Amanda and Ralph had had a lot of say in the planning of their wedding. From the rose petals and Ralph's white suit, through to the choice of music. I found myself struggling not to roll my eyes. Ralph's idea of traditional was a little tacky.

It wasn't that I didn't like traditional weddings, because I did. As time went on, I realised the chances were my own wedding would probably be fairly conservative. In fact, there was probably a scrapbook under a bed somewhere that I would be able to find pictures of the suit I was going to wear, wedding favour samples and CDs of all the music. All this and I didn't even have a fiancée!

I did, however, have a girlfriend.

I was fairly sure, Casey's version of a wedding, in comparison to Ralph's would be slightly more…or maybe slightly less…or…just _better_.

After the short ceremony at the church was over, we moved to the reception hotel; a small four-star place on the outskirts of town. Amanda and Ralph's touch had extended here in the balloons on the table, and the little white swan boats which held pink sugar almonds. (Very hard pink sugar almonds, I nearly cracked a tooth.)

Casey hovered beside me as she had done at the church, but we didn't touch because to do so would be breaking rules. Our family knowing about us was one thing; we weren't sure about the rest of London knowing and the guests at this wedding were largely our friends from high school.

Five minutes after I liberated a champagne flute from a nearby waiter I had already spotted twelve girls I had dated in one form or another; and that wasn't including the beauty currently wide-eyed next to me.

I didn't like the look on her face. She seemed dejected so I caught her by the arm and propelled her through a set of fire doors.

"Talk to me." I insisted.

Casey's shoulders slumped.

"There are so many people from school!" She exclaimed.

"What do you expect, Case? Amanda and Ralph went to our school."

"I know." She was frowning now. When she spoke her voice was a small whisper. "Derek, how many of them do you think have heard the rumours?"

I sighed. "Probably all of them." I admitted quietly. "Sweetheart, don't fret about it. As far as they know that's all they are…rumours. We'll just avoid touching each other, argue like cat and dog as usual and they'll soon forget about it."  
"And if someone mentions the rumours?" She sounded disappointed.

"Just laugh about it or say 'excuse me while I barf' or something."

Casey said nothing.

I hate it when she looks lost. It's not that I expect her to be ridiculously happy all the time, but when she looks _lost_ it reminds me of the Casey I knew at the time of Dennis' death or the weird Casey from a few weeks back when we were both suffering from grief of a different sort.

I looked around at our surroundings.

After we had passed through the fire doors, I had pulled her into a recess in a utility corridor that I doubted guests were normally welcome in. Currently, it was deserted. I took the extra step necessary to bring me up close to Casey then I let my fingers find the small of her back and gently eased her into my arms. She looked up through her lashes at me.

"This is hardly avoiding each other's touch and arguing like cat and dog." She said in an innocent manner – one which was belied by the way _her_ fingers had slipped under my jacket and were currently stroking a pattern on my stomach through my shirt.

"The coast is clear." I chuckled. "You're entirely at my mercy."

"Funny. I was thinking the exact opposite. _You_ are at _my_ mercy." She said with a smirk and she let one finger poke through the gap between the buttons on my shirt. The wayward digit tickled the skin below my navel and I closed my eyes against the thought of Casey's bare skin touching mine so close to the nirvana.

We were getting more physical with each other by the day. Before we had come back to London, we had crossed several boundaries except the big one. Casey was my girlfriend, undoubtedly the love of my life, but she was still virgo intacta. On the occasions that I considered that fact, something approaching regret surfaced that we did not share that status in common. I wanted to be her equal.

Common sense told me that in a short space of time, maybe only weeks, if I could not be hers (equal, I mean), she would be mine.

Actually, the rate she was going with those inquisitive fingers of hers, it could be right here in the damn corridor.

Her fingers were now undoing buttons and her mouth was reaching for mine.

I tilted my head to one side, but before I allowed her the kiss I grinned.

"This "innocent" thing you got going…it's an act, isn't it?"

"Quit prevaricating, Venturi and kiss me." She ordered.

I try not to disappoint ladies. Hell hath no fury and all that…

My mouth met hers and I blinked at the sensation.

When we were fifteen, it was the fire in her words that made me hers.

When we were seventeen, it was the fire in her eyes.

Now we're twenty one, it's the fire in her lips.

One day soon, I hope it will be the fire in her loins.

As our lips touched, we both started slightly. It was always like this; the spark of excitement which triggered the flame which eventually mellowed to the comfortable, but no less erotic warmth. We moved together, joined at the mouth, and bodies pressed tight to each other. I felt her breast react to the touch of my own chest, clothed though it was. I had no doubt that she knew the effect she had on me. After a few seconds her tongue joined mine and we started the jostling of each other's bodies that often led us into dangerous, but exciting territory.

When the air in my lungs grew stale, we broke briefly apart.

"I don't want to hide us." Casey panted. "I need us."

"I need you too, love. And I don't want to hide either."

"We need to be subtle." She said thoughtfully. "I don't want to screw Ralph's wedding day up."

I chuckled, my fingers covering Casey's where they explored under my shirt. I wasn't preventing her – just guiding her.

"Maybe later you could dance with me or something?" She asked hopefully.

"Yeah."

"Derek?"

"Hmmm…?" Too much talking, her neck needed attention.

"How long do you think we can get away with hanging out here?"

"As long as possible." I said my lips against her skin. Casey giggled and leant in for another kiss.

* * *

I had already caught up with Sam as we waited for the photos at the church. It had been about six months since I had last seen him, shortly before my trip to England.

"Catching up" went along the using male route of back-slapping and dropping straight into a conversation about hockey. It was normal.

Too normal. I was slightly bemused, because strangely enough, Sam had been the only person who hadn't emailed me about the stupid rumours and I had never managed to ask him why.

When Casey and I finally emerged from our little tryst in the corridor, she was immediately cornered by an overly exuberant Emily. I watched my ex-girlfriend drag my current girlfriend off to one side to do some catching up of their own. Emily didn't give me a second glance which was a relief. Years ago, I would have been the one whose attention she was after. I sipped at the remaining champagne in my glass, monitoring Casey's body language as she perched next to her friend. I wondered who they were gossiping about…then as I caught the slight tensing of Casey's body, I realised that it was us.

I was briefly considering rescuing the love of my life when Sam appeared beside me.

"Casey getting the third degree?" He asked sagely. I kept my face deadpan, but my eyes darted to his.

"Probably. You know Emily."

Sam grinned. "Why the hell did you ever date her?"

"Emily?"

Sam smirked into his own glass. "Of course. Who else?"

"I wanted to take someone _nice_ to prom; someone who wouldn't expect me to roll around in the back of the prince with her afterwards. I didn't want to forever associate my memory of prom with the additional memory of a cheap experience with a slutty girl."

My long term best friend looked puzzled. "I thought you two had a big argument that night because you _wouldn't_ roll around with her in the back of the car?"

I nodded, grinning. "Yeah. Apparently, that was _exactly_ what Emily was expecting." We both laughed.

"Did you ever…?" Sam stopped himself immediately. I chuckled.

"No. What d'ya think I am? Suicidal? Like I'd sleep with Casey's best friend! I would have never heard the last of it. It would be "poor Emily. I know. Aren't men total shits? Especially, Der-ek!"" I mimicked Casey's voice glancing over to make sure she couldn't hear me.

"Life around you two was never dull. _Is_ never dull. Have you asked her to marry you yet?" Sam's voice was gentle and I almost missed the dramatic importance of his words.

I looked up in surprise, met his gaze and dropped my eyes again. It wasn't surprise that Sam knew – it was impossible to avoid knowing something once it had hit the corridors of our high school. The surprise came that he didn't ask about the rumours, just accurately predicted where my mind was at.

"No. Not exactly."

"What exactly?"

"We haven't been dating very long…I dropped a hint though."

Sam snorted. "You haven't been dating long? Derek, you've been doing the courtship dance with Casey since you were fifteen."  
"You dated her when we were fifteen."

"Yeah. I know. It was like there were three of us in the relationship. Why do you think we split up?"

"You split up because you kept bickering."

"Duh, yeah…about you."

I frowned. "Really?"

"Yes, asswad. And I'm not the only one who felt like that. It used to drive Sally crazy."

"Sally?" I stuttered.

"Yeah. Blonde, attractive. The one that made you a man."

I glared at Sam and he took a step back.

"Sorry." He apologised. "Didn't mean to push it. Anyway, she used to joke that your relationship was a ménage-a-trois. You, Sally and Casey. She hated it."

"Sally got on with Casey. They were friends."  
"D. You never heard of the expression, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'? She told me that she spent the whole of your relationship waiting for you to open your eyes and see the girl in the next door bedroom. It kind of surprised her when time ran out on the relationship rather than you."  
"I cared about Sally. I loved her."

"I know. And she knew too. She also knew that you loved Casey." He stopped. "How long have you been dating?"

"Officially? Less than twenty four hours. Or at least that's how long since we told our parents."

"And unofficially?"

"About six weeks. But we've been…closer for about two years now."

"Hence the thoughts of matrimony." Sam supplied. I nodded. "So when are you going to ask her?"

I shrugged. "A few months maybe. Let everyone get used to the idea of us as a couple first."

Sam smiled. "I wouldn't worry D. It's always been 'Derek and Casey'."

* * *

Apparently, Casey managed to duck most of Emily's questions, because she came back looking rather pleased with herself. As agreed we stood away from each other, but when we consulted the seating plan for the meal, it was obvious that Ralph had put us on a table together: Sam and his girlfriend, Emily and her boyfriend, Casey and me, and the final two places were taken up by two girls from our year group who, to my relief I had never dated.

The dining hall was swathed in lots of fabric with balloons suspended above each round table. Each place setting had several glasses and a full compliment of cutlery. In the centre were two bottles of red wine, two wine chillers with bottles of white, and a large pitcher of iced tap water. At the top of the room was a long straight table set in a similar manner to the round ones, and fronted with flowers for the main members of the wedding party. Next to it was a high chair.

We sat down at the appropriate round table in the places marked for us, which meant Casey was to my left and Jo, one of the two girls was on my right. Ralph had had a hand in the seating plan because our table was very close to the top table and prominent in the room. The hall started to fill with the other guests as they too found their places. There must have been upwards of eighty people present.

"Hi Derek." Jo greeted me enthusiastically; a little too enthusiastically and I remembered why I had never dated her. She was a piranha just waiting to sink her teeth into your man-meat. After ten minutes of her and her "plus one" gushing over me, I realised she was flirting with me.

Casey must have felt me tense beside her, because at the next natural pause in her conversation with Emily's partner, she swivelled in her seat.

"What's up?" She hissed. I was too close to the girl next to me to confide in my girlfriend without causing a scene so I just rolled my eyes. Casey looked confused and turned back to speak to Peter.

A few seconds later, I realised a hand was caressing my thigh…and it wasn't Casey's. I drew in a noisy breath as the hand started to move higher. It reached its goal at exactly the same moment as Casey swivelled again to check on me. Her eyes met my (frankly disgusted) ones. She frowned at my expression, noted the pointed downward look as I tried to signal what was going on, and then as I had silently instructed, she glanced down…at the hand grabbing my crotch. I sincerely hoped she understood what was happening here, because I wasn't about to lose her over a tart like Jo Hill.

There was a pause in time as Casey blinked. It was a very quiet pause.

I didn't notice immediately how the rest of the room had become quieter, all of the guests now seated. All I could see was Casey McDonald standing up, her body disturbing the tablecloth so that her knives and forks made a noisy clatter which drew the surrounding eyes towards our table. Before I could point this out to her, or stop her in anyway, Casey had leaned across the table, grabbed the iced water pitcher and emptied its contents over Jo's head. The hand disappeared from my crotch and an eerie silence once again ensued. It was broken by Casey.

"Derek's _mine_! Keep your filthy hands to yourself!" She shouted, her eyes flashing and her hand still holding the empty pitcher. Jo started to scream and her little friend began flapping around her ineffectually with a napkin.

The entire room was staring at Casey, a fact which she was about to realise in three, two…

I stood up and gently removed the pitcher from her fingers, whispering as I did so.

"You're beautiful and I love you. Please don't freak out."

As I spoke, realisation of what she had just done kicked in and her eyes darted to mine in panic.

"Don't freak. Stay dignified. Just sit down and take a small sip of your wine." I instructed. She nodded distractedly doing as I had said.

I sat down beside her as Jo and her friend ran sobbing off to the ladies' room.

Sensing we still had a stunned audience, I threw an arm around Casey's shoulders and smirked as I drew her close to me.

"Well that's one way to announce to the world that we're together." I laughed. Casey groaned and ducked her head into my shoulder.

"And here's another." I said, lifting her chin so that her face was level with mine again.

And then I kissed her.

* * *

Later, we both apologised to Ralph and Amanda for the unplanned entertainment and Ralph admitted he thought we had been dating for years. Apparently, that was why he had seated us together on the table plan. Amanda, it appeared, was grateful that her wedding would be talked about for years to come.

Jo and friend were seated elsewhere by the hotel staff – after she had changed and dried her hair. No one on our table at least was sorry to see her go.

Casey was mortified at her own actions. It took a while to calm her down, but eventually we managed it, and we were able to complete the meal and start the dancing with everyone else. She never left my side, and we danced _every_ dance together.

It was quite liberating not to hide.

The evening was drawing to a close and we were outside on the terrace escaping the warm dance-floor. Casey was wrapped in my arms again and we were sharing another of the day's long deep kisses.

"It's been one hell of a day." I stated when we released each other.

"It has." Casey said biting her lip nervously.

I smiled. "Case. They'll all forget it."

"Not for years they won't. It will be dragged out regularly whenever we see any of them and when you eventually dump me, it will be one of those topics of conversation that make me avoid parties because I'll know it will come up."

I leaned back against the guard rail of the terrace.

"Didn't I tell you earlier that I didn't want rose petals at _our_ wedding? Does that sound like I'm going to dump you?"

She rounded on me.

"Hmm…about that…You had better not consider that a proposal, Venturi. In the unlikely event we last the distance, I expect nothing short of the works. Romantic holiday, moonlight, champagne and you are definitely going down on one knee, if I have to knee-cap you to achieve it."

"Was that a "no"?" I prompted.

Casey glanced back at me and I grinned.

"Quit joking about, Derek. Marriage is no laughing matter. I take it very seriously."

I knew that. I had seen the triple packet of paper tissues she had slipped into her clutch bag when we left our parents' home this morning; tissues and her tube of waterproof mascara. Casey had never really got on with Ralph's new wife but that wouldn't stop her crying at the wedding.

I slipped an arm around her and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"How about I just bang you over the head and drag you back to my cave?"  
Despite herself, Casey giggled and I smirked back at her.

I spoke again. This time my voice was slightly nervous.

"When the time comes, princess, you'll have no complaints."

Casey's eyes flew up to meet mine and when she realised I meant it, I saw the tears welling.

"It's too soon. But it will happen." I confirmed. "I'm not going through the crap of the last two years again. I only make that kind of commitment once."

"I'll make a commitment to you too. No petals." Casey promised as she squeezed my hand. "I'd marry you on a beach in my bare feet and a sarong if that was what you wanted." She was as serious as I was.

"And rob Nora of the chance to do floral arrangements and bunting?"

"Bunting?! At a wedding?!" My future fiancée shrieked.

"What's wrong with bunting?"

"Nothing…for a cake sale."

I jerked my head towards the room behind us. "The bun's already out of the oven at this wedding." I was referring to Ralph's little daughter.

Casey rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I put up with you?"

"My rugged good looks, astounding wit, and you liked the way I glossed your skirting." I replied, wagging my eyebrows suggestively. Casey bit her lip in an attempt to ignore my astounding wit.

She surprised me then, choosing to use my double entendre for her own purposes. "There won't be any 'glossing' going on while we're back home with the parentals."

"You sound almost regretful Casey." I said surprised. "I thought we weren't ready for that step yet?"

She sighed and leaned against me. "Some days it's really hard to say 'no' to you." She admitted honestly.

I drew her close again. "And for me too." I decided to admit something.

"Actually, we aren't going home to the mad house tonight. I booked a room here."

"Why?" She didn't seem displeased…yet."

"To be honest, I didn't fancy a dry night, and I wasn't going to leave my car here till tomorrow."

"I haven't got anything with me, no toothbrush or change of clothes." Casey complained but she still seemed okay with it.

I scratched my head, slightly embarrassed at the planning I had done. "Nora packed a bag for you."

"Is this a thinly veiled attempt at seduction?" She asked.

"Nope. It's a blatant one. Although I'll settle for just being able to sleep next to you. The last two nights have been…boring."

"Why? Because you had to resort to Edwin's old monkey for your late night smooching?"

"Smooching? Seriously, Casey. Is that how you'd describe our red-hot late night make-out sessions? Coz if it is I am doing something wrong."

Casey smirked.

"Relax D. I think the hotel room was a good idea." The way she spoke those words made me weak at the knees.

"In fact," She continued. "I think I'm ready for bed now."

With the benefit of hindsight, I can confirm, she wasn't talking about sleep.


	46. Epilogue

It was a day of contrasts: a day of the bitter nestling alongside the sweet, black intertwined with the white, sorrow amongst the joy. A day which saw me white against the grey landscape of the cemetery.

The weather was sunny and warm which I was grateful for. Standing on a hillside dressed as I was would have been chilling otherwise. I was aware of the picture I must have made as I stood there, and other visitors occasionally threw glances my way as they went about their own business of mourning. But the glances were sympathetic, as if they understood my need to be there, despite the nature of my outfit.

My wedding dress whilst stylish and flattering was designed for the indoor venues of the church and the hotel. My shoes likewise were not best suited for the climb up the gravel path from the parking lot below where my white wedding car looked incongruous parked between two black limousines. My bouquet with its single red rose among all the white ones contrasted with the funereal flowers arranged on the graves.

When I reached my destination I became oblivious to the other people around me. The tears held off for a while as I dropped my gaze down to look at the grave of the first man I had ever loved and whispered softly.

"You should have been there, Dad. _That_ would have made it perfect."

My voice broke towards the end of my sentence and I fidgeted, looking up and at every direction except at the headstone. I didn't need to look at it. I knew the inscription by heart.

'Dennis McDonald (1968-2009)

Beloved father of Casey and Lizzie.

Deeply missed by Nora.

_Bereft of life, he rests in peace.'_

My father wasn't there, just his remains. But it was a convenient place to think of him, talk to him even.

Today, my wedding day, I wanted to talk.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here in a while, Dad. I've been so busy with work and planning the wedding. We've been travelling to so many exciting places. Last month we were in Israel covering the peace talks, the previous month we were in the Falkland Islands photographing penguins and oil rigs. After the honeymoon, I think we are off to China." I smiled gently. "And people don't understand why we say we are spending the entire honeymoon at home."

I paused. "Derek says 'what's the point in paying for flights and a hotel room when we won't be seeing the light of day anyway'. But you probably don't want to hear that." I blushed and heard the very slight snigger carried across on the wind from somewhere off to my right.

"Anyway, he's done the right thing by me. He's been the perfect gentleman. He waited until we had been together for three months before he proposed. Although if you ask mom she might say it was six weeks, because we count from different start dates -she counts from when we told her we were dating, we count from a point somewhat earlier. And before you say anything about it being quick, it really wasn't. This all started after you…died. So I guess you only have yourself to blame.

I suppose I should tell you about the proposal. Remember I had a plan? I knew how I wanted the love of my life to propose to me. I wanted to go on a holiday to a beach or a Swiss chalet. I wanted candlelight and champagne and romantic music.

Well _Derek_ took me camping and we almost got eaten by a bear because he forgot to double wrap the food. And we were forced to flee in the dark through a stream and I got soaking wet and muddy. When we finally got back to the tent we had to spend the whole night drying out by the campfire.

We were huddled together under a blanket shivering so much that his teeth chattered when he asked me to marry him.

But it was perfect. So I said yes.

And here we are eighteen months later. It would have been sooner, but we got picked up by a major news agency six months ago after they saw one of our combined journalism assignments. So now we are investigative journalists. And the funny thing is we spend all our time together, and it isn't anywhere near as painful as you might think!"

I was quiet for a moment. The gravel crunched off to my right and I held up a warning hand. The noise stopped.

"Lizzie gave me away, Dad. I wanted to be given away by a McDonald and she was the last one left." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I have five bridesmaids. Marti, of course. Emily from school, Rosie from Queens, and Willow and Lucy from England. Somehow I think the five of us will always be friends despite the distance.

"When we get to the hotel, Willow, Lucy and James will be playing music. It came as a bit of a shock to find that James plays the cello. Lucy plays the piano and Willow plays the violin. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but James has asked my permission to propose to Lucy at the reception. Now that Willow and Andy are engaged, he _says_ he feels left out. But, the writing was on the wall from the moment they met again that day in Yorkshire; there's no doubt they are meant for each other. Just like there's no doubt that is going to be highly amusing to their families.

Derek chose Tom for _his_ best man which annoyed me for a while. I thought it should be Sam. Then one day, I spoke to Sam about it and he told me that Derek had been going to ask him but Sam had jumped in to stop him, pleading with him not to ask, because he said:

"…I love you like a brother, D. But I loved Casey once and I'd feel awkward standing beside you. You belong together, she needs you. But Casey and I have a history – however innocent. I need to be some where less high profile in your big day."

So Sam was an usher."

I paused.

"You know, I wonder what you would have made of me marrying Derek." I mused.

I jumped as a pair of arms encircled my waist and a chin rested on my shoulder.

"Dennis felt victorious." My husband said softly in my ear and kissed my neck.

"Oh?"  
Derek pulled away and reached into his morning suit pocket for something, and my eye didn't miss the flash of gold on his finger. His wedding band.

_My_ brand.

"Nora gave me this at breakfast." He said, handing me an envelope. A single word graced it in my father's hand-writing. "_Derek"._

"Read it."

I pulled a piece of paper from inside the envelope, thrilling at the sight of Dad's letter forms once again. I unfolded the sheet and read.

_Dear Derek,_

_Enclosed is an invoice for $20. You owe my estate said amount in respect to our bet. Pay up to Lizzie._

_Seriously, though, I told you it was love when I met you and you didn't believe me. I'm feeling rather smug right now even if it is from the grave._

_Before I met you, I heard all sorts of tales about how difficult you made Casey's life – and not just from Casey. But you showed me you cared, that there was more to your relationship. If you've made it this far through all the craziness I know you love my daughter._

_Casey deserves the very best love, the very best care and attention. I often failed her in that. I know that you won't._

_Believe me though, if by some weird fluke you screw this up, I'll haunt your ass._

_Look after her Derek. She's capable of very deep and sincere love. If you treat her right, it's all yours. _

_Dennis."_

"Oh." And then the tears came.

Derek let me cry for a few moments and to his credit, he didn't try to touch me. He knew I needed to cry away my grief – not for the last time, but definitely for the last time today. Because this was my wedding day. The day when I had married the man I loved. The man I knew who would love me for the rest of my life. And regardless of our losses, today was all about what we had gained.

Love.

Deep, pure, limitless love.

And a fair degree of arguing, but that was our life's blood, so it went without saying!

Eventually, I took a deep breath, wiped the last of the tears from my cheeks and stepped towards Dad's grave. Bending awkwardly in what was quite a straight dress, I lowered my bouquet onto the ground so that it brushed against the headstone. I straightened and stepped back to Derek. He surprised me then, by stepping forwards himself, a small card in his hand which he placed in amongst the flowers of my bouquet. Then he too stepped back. I looked at him, with confusion no doubt all over my face.

He motioned for me to go and look, so I did. And then I gasped.

The card was a photograph, evidently taken with one of those instant cameras. It was a photograph of Derek and me as we exited the church, holding hands. Across one corner, in Derek's scrawl was written "You were missed, Dad. Love Casey and Derek."

* * *

We made the journey back down to the wedding car, in silence but holding hands. The chauffeur saw us coming and came round to open the door, but before I entered, I reached up to kiss Derek.

"Thank you." I whispered.

"I did it for us, not for you." He said simply.

Then we climbed into the car, the chauffeur closed the door behind us, and in a couple of minutes the car was heading off down the road.

I didn't look back because I didn't need to. Dad was as much a part of my future as he was my past. And what a future it promised to be!

I smiled to myself as we drew close to the hotel and our guests.

"You okay?" Derek asked.

"Yes." I said certain that I was far more than okay. I was ecstatic. I squeezed his hand. He grinned back.

"God! I'm looking forward to our honeymoon!" I announced.

Derek blinked at the vehemence in my statement and then he started to laugh. I joined in.

We were still laughing when we arrived.

* * *

**AN: I would like to thank Monty Python for the Dead Parrot sketch which gave me the idea for the "Bereft" quote on Dennis' grave. I rather like the fact that such an angst-ridden story has something in common with such a ridiculous comedy sketch! I couldn't see Dennis (or Nora who organised his funeral) wanting something morbid or particularly religious. Of course, they would have to choose wording that wasn't offensive or they would be told to change it. A covert Python quote seems appropriate.**

**(Incidentally, comedian Spike Milligan posthumously got around the rules for the inscription on his own headstone by having the Irish phrase **"Dúirt mé leat go raibh mé breoite" –**or in English** "I told you I was ill."**)**

**P.S. In the language of flowers, A Daisy means Innocence; Loyal love; I will never tell; Purity; Gentleness; Romance. **

**How appropriate!**

**P.P.S. Note I haven't clicked on "complete" for this story…**


	47. The Proposal

"'Pack your bags' he says. 'We're going away' he says. 'A little "r and r"' he says. 'Time to kick back before the new school year'." I huffed. "So I'm thinking Florida, or the west coast. A chance to unwind and soak up a bit of vitamin D." I picked my way over the rugged path. "I did not think rock hard bed. I did not think midges, I did not think hiking over ten miles to get to the "perfect" spot."

"Quiet woman! Anyone would think you've never been camping." Derek was jumping from rock to rock as he climbed.  
"I've been camping Derek. Nice, organised camps with proper shower facilities and toilets with running water."

"I can do running water." He threw back cheerily.

"A stream doesn't count, Venturi!"

"Because…"

"Screw you." Dating Derek Venturi had seriously affected my vernacular.

"I wish you would."

Some days, the LoML (Love of My Life) was just a horny teenager.

Days that ended in the letters D.A.Y.

I ignored him and was silent for a while as the terrain got rugged.

Who was I kidding? The terrain had been rugged since we left the parking lot.

Derek appeared in his element. He was charging ahead with a big grin on his face like he was discovering new lands or something. Derek wasn't really the hiking sort though, so I had a nasty feeling that the "something" behind Derek's determination was the opportunity to get me to do something outside of my "comfort zone".

"What is all this about, Derek?" I asked a mile or three later.

He shrugged. "I just thought it would be nice to do something as a couple…without outside influences."

I frowned as we arrived in a clearing with its own little stream.

"Without outside influences?" I asked nervously.

"No one can hear you scream out here." He said, suddenly beside me, with _that_ look on his face. I rolled my eyes.

"Great. You brought me here for outdoor sex didn't you?"

"No. But the idea has a certain charm to it."

"Does the phrase, 'wrong time of the month' mean anything to you?"

He looked at me in horror. I smirked. It wasn't that time at all, but I'd let him stew a bit before I told him.

The clearing, it appeared, was our destination and I relented, internally, enough to admit that it was actually really nice here. There was a small brook which gurgled and a decent view – correction – a _stunning_ view of the valley below.

"You like?" Derek asked in a stupid voice.

I nodded.

"Good." He said. "I had to bribe a freaking teacher to get directions to this place."

"A teacher?"  
"Paul Greeby. We came here about six months before I met you on a geography field trip. He was covering for Larson after his hair weave went wrong. I figured one day I'd find a way to bag a babe here."  
"Gee, thanks D. Your turn of phrase leaves me breathless."

"Good. The rest of me will follow."  
Despite myself, I grinned. Derek was quick-witted and it was very hard to be on the receiving end of that wit because all you wanted to do was laugh – which was exactly the opposite to what you were supposed to be doing.

"We should put the tent up and get settled." Derek announced. "We've only got a couple of hours before dark."

We needed every minute.

It wasn't that we couldn't put up the tent. We managed that fairly easily. It wasn't that we couldn't find fire wood because we did that in ten minutes, finding enough to last for three days – although we would be there only two nights. It wasn't even the fetching of water or making of the camp fire.

We needed every minute because I made the mistake of letting slip to Derek that the "painters" weren't in for another week. So before we could do any of the above, he seduced me.

There in the middle of the clearing.

We didn't even put the tent up first.

* * *

Afterwards, we only had an hour till sundown so everything became a bit of a rush. But in the end, we had our own little canvas palace with its own water supply, and a roaring fire outside. Just after we lit it was when the midges started.

"I'm going to be covered in bites tomorrow." I said, slapping the back of my neck.

"I won't lay a finger on you, honey."

"Of course not. You already got your ticket punched, you might as well kick back with a cigar."  
"That good huh?" he smirked.

"Don't Derek. I have blisters on my blisters and I'm not in the mood."

An arm appeared around my shoulders.

"Aw! You were earlier. I didn't hear any complaining about your blisters then. Maybe I could take your mind off them again."  
"I'll settle for something to eat. And I mean _food_ Derek before your fifteen year old brain starts off on a jolly again."

He laughed. "Sure thing, hot stuff. How about sausages and beans?"

"Have you any idea what those sausages are made of? Or how long it is since they last saw a pig?"

"Okay. You choose."

I settled for tinned chicken in a white sauce with rice, cooked in the one saucepan which made it look a mess, but in reality it tasted fantastic.

Food had evidently been the reason behind my grouchiness because with the sustenance came a certain appreciation for Derek's thought process behind the trip. It _was_ nice to be alone in the wilderness together. The camping spot was lovely.

And no one would hear me scream.

I didn't brush him off when he snuggled me into his side and his hands started wandering. It was getting dark and I was looking forward to cuddling up in the sleeping bags with LoML. I lifted my face to his and let him start kissing me.

You probably realised by now that what had started as a slow-burning relationship had quickly sparked into frenzied couplings on a thrice-daily basis.

Okay. I'm exaggerating – but not by much.

Derek and I had a healthy sexual relationship. We rarely said no to each other. And we asked each other a lot.

The kissing was progressing nicely when I heard it

"Seriously, Derek. The heavy breathing is a real turn off."

He frowned. "I'm not heavy breathing."

I smacked him on the arm.

"Quit fooling around. You're getting yours, so quit it with the dodgy breathing."  
"Casey. I'm serious."  
I pulled back. "Well if it isn't you. What the hell is that noise?"  
We both heard it then, and this time it sounded…feral.

"Derek. This part of the park…does it have bears?" I asked, thinking I really should have asked that question earlier.

"I didn't ask."

"Der-ek!" I hissed.

"Don't panic. If we stay quiet it will probably leave."

I groaned. "It can smell our supper. What incentive does it have to leave?"

"We finished eating a while ago. It won't be able to smell the dinner. Maybe it's after the other food."

"Did you double bag it?"  
"What do you mean "double bag it"?"

"Never mind." I sighed.

A twig nearby cracked and I panicked.

"It's coming! Quick! We need to find a tree or something!"

"Casey! Calm down! We'll get in the tent and turn the light out. It will be gone in the morning."

"Derek. Have you seen a bear's claw? Do you seriously think that canvas would be enough to resist a hungry bear?"

"I think the tents are all made of nylon these days."

"Der-ek!"

"And honestly, babe? When did _you_ last see a bear's claw?"

"I haven't. And I have no desire to. We need to move."

Derek started to protest and then the cracking of dry wood grew closer and suddenly _he_ panicked too.

In an instant we were on our feet sprinting off in different directions.

"Casey!" Derek hissed. "Where are you going?"

"This way! Back to the car."

"We can't go back to the car. It's dark. We'll get lost. Come this way. There are trees."

So I turned tail and followed him. He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the trees.

The trouble with Derek…correction, one of the troubles with Derek is he has absolutely _no_ sense of direction and we had no torch. The first sign I had of where he was leading us was when we tumbled head first into the attractive little brook.

"Fuck!" Derek said, splashing as he tried to get on his feet accidentally pulling me down with him again. I gasped as the cold water soaked my clothes.

Finally, after much stumbling we managed to emerge from the water.

We stood there on the bank, listening for a sign of where the bear had gone.

But there was nothing.

"What now?" I asked, timidly. "All our stuff is in the tent we can't just abandon it."

"Shit!" I heard Derek swear in the dark.

"What?" I panicked. It came out more like W-W-W-What? Although it was still a warm summer night, it was not warm enough to be soaking wet. I was shivering with the cold.

"We need to go back to the tent." Derek stuttered on the words 'go' and 'tent' because he too was feeling the effects of the cold.

"Why? There's a bear, Derek."

But without answering, he was off stomping back towards our things and the tiny red dot that was the remains of our dying fire, muttering something about rings.

The tent was still intact and there was nothing to show what had caused the noise.

We approached slowly in case something was inside, although the odds on it being a bear were rather small. Feeling like a dizzy female, I clung to his arm tightly as we inched towards the camp site.

"You know I'm really starting to wish that George was one of those dads who got their children into hunting at a young age, and that you were a crack shot with a gun."

"Sorry? Did you just say you wanted me to be the kind of guy who kills Bambi's mother?"

I rolled my eyes at him which was pointless in the dark.

"Let's get out of these wet things." I chattered.

"Casey. Now is not the time for sex."

"I'm not dignifying that with a response." I muttered as I opened the tent and went inside.

Before I started changing, I switched on one of the lanterns. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Derek climb in behind me, no doubt to change his own clothes. But first I saw him stroking his rucksack in a strange way, as if feeling for something. Frowning, and teeth chattering, I pulled out my spare change of clothes and started to strip off. Taking my clothes off anywhere near Derek was a dangerous manoeuvre, but he must have sensed my irritation with the events of the last half an hour because he left me alone.

Dry and dressed but still cold, we crawled outside again and Derek started to build the camp fire so that we could warm up. I reached into the tent behind me and dragged a sleeping bag out. Fear of the bear receded as nothing untoward happened and we snuggled back under the sleeping bag, in front of the fire.

My teeth chattered for a while, but I was gradually warming up.

"Nothing with you is ever dull is it McDonald?" Derek said softly, his teeth rattling a little on the word dull.

"This is all my fault?"

"Hell yes! If I hadn't fallen in love with you I'd be sunning myself on some Californian beach right now."

I frowned, because his complaint was ridiculous, and completely at odds with the way he had tightened his hold on me as he spoke.

"I'm the Californian beach type of gal too." I protested.

"Yeah but this is a much better story for our kids." He said, with a slight chatter to his words despite being warmer. "The romantic view and the bear story. Although we might want to leave out the outdoor sex bit."

I looked at him in surprise.

"Kids?"

And then I looked down at our hands between us and saw that he was gently butting my fingers with a small box. I raised wide eyes to those of Derek Venturi.

"Marry me?"

"Marry you?" I was still in shock.

"Yeah. You know, white dress, formal suit, _honeymoon_." He smirked at me, but I could see the nerves behind his humour. His eyes were soft and honest.

"I love you. Will you marry me? Please?"

Romantic Derek.

Because the setting _was_ romantic, and thoughtful and sweet. And to other eyes maybe the timing was a bit quick. But this had been building for years.

It had been a rollercoaster of a journey to this point in our lives and knowing Derek and I, there were still several more circuits to go.

Life was never certain.

The one thing I _was_ certain about was that I would love this man for the rest of my life. A life without him I just could not endure. I had failed after three months. I did not want to go through that again.

"Yes."

* * *

I won't dwell on what happened after that but it involved the hasty dousing of the camp fire, shedding of garments, and several rounds of tent sex before we finally drifted off to sleep; the ring was on my finger and the only time I was planning on removing it was our wedding day when tradition dictated I moved it to my other hand for the day to make room for my wedding ring.

We woke the next morning to glorious sunshine, and tired limbs. I wasn't hugely sure that it was only the effort of the hiking that made me ache so much. As usual, Derek was wrapped around me in the manner we had grown accustomed to over the past two years.

"Thank you." Were his first words to me when he woke. "For saying 'yes'."

"What else could I say? This makes the fighting so much more convenient."

He chuckled. "Great! What say we ditch this joint, go back to civilisation and you buy me breakfast."

"_I_ buy _you_ breakfast?!"

"I just gave you a ring."

"Fair point." I conceded. "Come on… Let's go before Yogi comes back."

And that would be all there was to say on our story – one of life's successes – but as we were tidying up the camp, Derek found something that has to be mentioned as the ultimate postscript.

"Casey." His voice had a strange note to it as I glanced up from across the clearing where I was rinsing off plates.

"What's up?"

"I think I found our visitor from last night." He was frozen in place looking away into the bushes.

"The bear's back???" I felt a rising panic.

"Not exactly." He stated as I heard the heavy breathing sound and the rustling of bushes.

Out from the shelter of the trees came something on four legs, but it definitely wasn't a bear.

"A moose????" I gasped. "We ran away from a _moose_!"

"This is embarrassing, huh?" Derek said stepping towards me.

"Mortifying."

We looked at each other then.

"We can't tell people you proposed to me after we were chased by a moose!" I exclaimed.

"Hell no!"

"The bear story?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"Stays." Derek agreed pulling me into a hug and kissing the top of my head.

And we started to laugh.

* * *

**AN: The End!**

**Thank you and Goodnight!**


End file.
